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“Guess that shows why they don’t give college boys guns, huh?” The man in a purple tacky suit says with a sneer. Jean chooses to dub this man goon 7. That’s about all these men were.
“Or responsibilities. You heard what garbage they teach in these gosh darn fancy ‘colleges’?” Goon 6 responds, smoking a joint.
It sparks up a conversation Jean can’t bother to follow. The uneducated truly had nothing to say, as a college attendee he would know. However, the more pressing matter was finding a way to deal with this mess. He and his five men had managed to walk into a trap. One of the Goblin’s old enforcers had started a rise to power, trying what Crime Master had done, but much more unsuccessfully. Despite that, Jean had trusted the wrong informant and been ambushed in this mid-construction housing complex. With no witnesses and no way to call for backup, he wasn’t quite sure what the next play would be.
“We finally gonna dispose of ‘em? Coppers are dime a dozen, ain’t no one gonna miss ‘em.” Says another, clearly the unofficial second in command.
The window shatters as someone swings in, kicking two gunmen down.
“Would you believe me, if I told you I’d miss them?” The black masked figure, Spider-Man asks, holding out his hands in an invitation for a fight.
The second in command pulls his pistol and then screams as webbing flies to block the gun barrel as it fires and hurts his hand. Afterwards Spider-Man jumps over the crumpled man, landing on top of another and pulls his own gun to shoot another before the goon could shoot back. An aggressor lands a punch on Spider-Man sending the inhuman man back before he retaliates by sweeping the legs from under the criminal. A final crush with his boots leaves the man still with a sickening crunch.
“You better stop if you're truly gonna miss the agents!” The leader, a man called Harry puts a gun against Jean’s head, making him stiff with fright. This wasn’t how he wanted to go and he didn’t trust that Spider-Man wouldn’t sacrifice their lives to kill the rest of these men. He still had so much he wanted to do. Make his career, find a man, learn the violin, save his country…Not die in a barely legal half-unfinished apartment complex because he chose to let a vigilante operate freely. Then again, his father had always told him that good deeds had a way at coming back at you.
Spider-Man’s shoulders slump and he drops the gun on the floor. Jean’s eyes widen and he looks over at the vigilante, who for a brief second appears to look his way as well, though with the mask on he couldn’t be sure.
“Kick it over.” Harry demands, letting go of Jean.
Spider-Man kicks the gun, crossing his arms in a show of defiance, “What then tough guy?
Harry gestures for one of the men to hit the vigilante. Curiously Jean notes that Spider-Man flinches and looks over at the aggressor behind him before the actual impact knocks him onto his knees. There’s no retaliation and Jean feels anger spark up inside him. It was pathetic to beat on a man who couldn’t fight back, beyond so. Harry pistol whips Spider-Man as he looks up, creating a small crack into his goggles. It reminds Jean of the night they’d met, Spider-Man had really been trashed then too, goggles shattered and mask torn. What possessed him to come out nightly? If he was burning with such righteousness, why not go through the law like everyone else?
“Do you have any idea how uselessly annoying you are? Walking around thinking your actions mean anything?! Even law enforcement doesn’t tolerate you, should’ve let them fry if you ask me.” Harry kicks him over, pulling out brass knuckles.
“Actions speak louder than words.” The vigilante takes a kick to the stomach, “And…all you’ve got…is words.”
Harry punches him then, laying into him, clearly beyond any pleasantries. All Jean can see from his angle is the way Spider-Man’s legs shiver and scramble from the onslaught of physical abuse.
“You’re a degradation, an aberration on this city. There’s no one who will miss you when I finally wipe your existence from the streets.” Harry pulls out his gun, lifting the masked man by his large lapels.
“Would it surprise you if I said I would!” Jean exclaims, seeing if stalling could help. He still needed the half way suicidal vigilante to survive.
Harry scowls, shooting near to where he was being held back. It doesn’t keep Harry’s attention for long though, as he turns the gun back to Spider-Man. However, before he can shoot, Spider-Man grips his wrist, immediately twisting the gun from his hand in a pure show of instinct. The way Jean sees him casually crush the smaller man’s wrist sends shivers up his spine, no one should have that much raw strength at their disposal.
It’s to Jean’s surprise that he sees Spider-Man casually kick the fallen gun near him. No one else takes notice, instead watching how Harry has gotten up screaming, holding his wrist and crying.
“FINE! You don’t want an easy out?! THROW HIM OUT THE WINDOW THEN!” Harry screams, still cradling his wrist.
Spider-Man ignores his comment and instead with a pained gesture tells Jean to wait. The inspector has no idea what the vigilante was planning, but he stays still, not diving for the gun near him yet. He had to wonder at what point he’d gotten comfortable listening to a criminal. Justified or not.
The only gunned individual who was guarding them walks over and with a nasty swing knocks down the Spider for good. There’s no resistance as two men drag him towards the open wall. The unfinished house was full of them and Jean knew that them being on the sixth story was serious danger. There was no doubt the fall would kill the vigilante.
With the guard who’d been watching them focused on the spectacle of watching Spider-Man get tossed, Jean lunges for the gun. The commotion makes him turn around but not in time before Jean shoots him in the leg. With the sound of the gunshot reverberating, everyone looks towards him.
Before Jean can order all of them to surrender, Harry as a last act of revenge pulls the vigilante from the others grasp with one arm, and in a hefty throw tosses him out the wall.
“Freeze!” Jean demands, watching with horror as the dark trenchcoat disappears out of his sight downwards.
“Ha! Whatever, I’ll be a legend after killing spider-man!” Harry laughs, raising one hand in surrender while the other one rests limply, an ugly shape and color by now.
Pounding steps from downstairs make Jean panic and he turns his gun to the newcomers. He’s relieved to see more law enforcement. Apparently Spider-Man had some common sense, calling in backup. Maybe he was learning.
“Arrest them, I have to chase someone who’s running. Get on with it now!” Jean commands, flashing his badge and then running down the flights of stairs. No one questions him, but he can hear the commotion as they move to arrest the Goblin’s former men.
He flies down six sets of stairs, opening the back door with a noticeable thud. It isn’t too hard to figure out where he would’ve fallen. Jogging past some garbage piles and construction equipment, he sees an indent in some garbage bags.
Jean holsters his gun and approaches. Seeing the prone form of Spider-Man. It’s a sad sight to see and the inspector crouches down. He first checks for a pulse. It’s with a pleasant surprise that he feels a faint one. Jean looks up at the distance he’d fallen, giving a disbelieving shake. No one should’ve survived that.
It’s an even bigger miracle when Spider-Man groans, fingers twitching and eyes barely opening.
“Can you hear me?” Jean asks, running a hand in front of his face. However, there’s no response and soon his eyes close again.
Jeans looks around in frustration, thinking over his options. It was clear if he left Spider-Man he’d die from exposure or from anyone who came across him. However, he also knew taking the vigilante to any hospital was a terrible idea. The inspector sighs and looks down at Spider-Man, as if willing him to start moving again and say he was fine. Last time that’s what he’d done.
There’s no movement in a good minute and Jean knows that he can’t in good conscience leave the man to die when he’d risked his life for them. He would do right by anyone who did the same to him.
“Come on then. Don’t make me regret this.” Jean hoists up the vigilante into a bridal hold, huffing at how heavy he was. His getup was a lot of added weight. What was his plan for summer anyway? Heat would kill him before any criminal did.
It’s a small struggle to carry the other into his car, with him needing to take a single break. A break that makes him reconsider his decisions as well. He was no nurse, was treating his own wounds with whiskey and gauze enough expertise for this? Would Spider-Man die anyway? He decides to ignore his doubts and opens his car door with difficulty, halfway dragging Spider-Man into the back before clambering to the front and resting his forehead on the wheel.
Seeing more cars arrive onto the scene, he decides to drive out before anyone asks why he’s got a vigilante criminal in his backseat. The whole time different scenarios run through his mind, usually ranging in various ways he could die or come to regret hosting a criminal.
It’s not a long drive and as he slows to a stop, he realizes he’s going to have to scrub away blood from his vehicle. It wasn’t his to begin with, it was the bureau’s. The thought makes him scramble to leave and remove Spider-Man.
As he opens the car door he comes to another realization. He lives in an apartment complex of his own, if a single one if his neighbors were outside he’d have too much explaining to do. Everyone had heard and seen Spider-Man by now, thanks to the Daily Bugle.
Jean hesitates his hand around the mask of the other, considering. He wanted to know his identity, wanted to see if he could recognize him. Despite how angry the vigilante might get, there was no other choice.
Like ripping off a bandaid, he pulls off the mask and removes the goggles. He can’t see much in the dark, but what he catches is a surprisingly youthful face and brown hair. It wasn’t someone he recognized though.
With a hefty tug, he pulls him into his arms, having pocketed the mask and goggles. Hopefully he wasn’t killed for removing those…
“Rough night?” One of his neighbors asks as he sees the two of them approach the entrance.
“It’s always a rough night, just harder on some of us some days.” Jean says, walking briskly, hoping no one got too much a look at the getup of the person he was carrying. Luckily a trenchcoat wasn’t just Spider-Man exclusive.
Two other people ask if he’s alright and he gives them the briefest response he can. Luckily none of them knew him well enough to take offense to his haste.
It doesn’t take him quite as long as he thought to open his door lock, but he audibly sighs when he closes the door behind him.
Jean sets an old blanket on his couch and then finally hoists his guest onto the couch. Which now left the fun part, doing what he could to mend the wounds.
Gauze, remnant disinfectant and some wet cloth is what he brings back.
Getting a better look at Spider-Man, he’s fairly annoyed to find out he was aesthetically pleasing. When he’d talked to the bruised man months ago he'd noticed he was easy on the eyes. However, glancing at him now he’s fairly confident in calling the other handsome.
“Should’ve figured, Spider-Man has to be good lookin’ too.”
With that, he pulls out his gauze first, analyzing the rest of Spider-Man to see where to start.
—
Peter knows immediately he must’ve taken some serious hits when he wakes up in pain. He couldn’t remember what he’d taken the brunt of, but it’s been enough times that he can recognize the pain.
His eyes open and he runs a sore hand through his face. This must’ve been an especially bad night. He looks around the room, growing alarmed when he doesn’t recognize his surroundings.
At that realization he remembers flying in to stop Harry, the man in charge of trying to revive the Goblin’s legacy. He’d surrendered for the lives of the bureau agents. He’d fallen out of a building!
Peter stumbles up, wobbling and feeling faint. His limbs still hurt and he could barely see straight, but it had to be better than staying wherever this was. In his disorganized state, he knocks over a lamp, wincing as it falls down and shatters. He’d have to try and repay that…somehow.
“Woah!” A fairly familiar voice calls from behind him.
Peter looks around, somehow surprised to see Jean De Wolfe, the bureau agent. Had he brought him here? Was this a weird arrest?
At that moment he comes to another horrible realization, which has his hands fly to his face. He had no mask.
“I’m sorry! I had no choice—look I have neighbors and everyone knows neighbors talk. The bureau’s on thin ice already, can't risk anymore controversy. And hey—! I have no idea who you are.” The words spill out of De Wolfe at an impressive speed.
“…Oh.” Peter says dumbly, “Can I have it back at some point?”
De Wolfe stares at him and then off to the side.
“I…don’t have any use for it.” He says.
There’s silence.
“I don’t think you should go yet.” De Wolfe says, “You’re slanting and you broke my lamp.”
“I can get you a new one.” Peter states though acquiescing by sitting down on the couch. The world had started spinning violently.
“Where does it hurt?” De Wolfe asks, still sounding uncertain.
“Feels like Goblin played golf using my head.” Peter says.
De Wolfe chuckles, “Considering they dropped you down a building, I’d say it was closer to a high dive.”
Peter hums and then asks, “Why didn’t you arrest me?”
“I told you before, you’re not under my jurisdiction. It helps to have someone who can give me excuses to do things I couldn’t otherwise.” De Wolfe explains, sitting next to him, “Can I..?”
“Mm.” Peter allows, closing his eyes as more exhaustion sets in.
The inspector’s touch is nice and gentle. It’s a pleasant surprise. He sighs as he sits back and enjoys the feel of tension and sweat wiped off.
“Why your home?”
“I wasn’t going to leave you bleeding out in an alleyway. This was the best solution I figured. I figured no hospitals?” De Wolfe responds.
“…Thank you.” Peter says with earnesty.
“Here’s a question of my own. Why did you surrender? I thought a vigilante of your kind would’ve let us die.”
Peter opens his eyes a crack, “This world needs more decent men. You’re better than that…and I’m not foolish enough to think I can win this war on my own.”
Peter catches a barely visible flush from De Wolfe, which he notes to himself.
“...Thanks. Guess we have to stick together, eh?” De Wolfe suggests, hastily getting up and off the couch.
“Try and keep up then.” Peter challenges.
“I have never seen you win a fight yet. Let’s start with that first.” De Wolfe fires back. It bites to know that the agent was right.
“I win plenty of fights and might I remind you that the second ‘loss’ is your fault.”
“Applesauce.”
Peter snorts and then moves to lie back down on the couch. He was sure it wasn’t the best idea to trust an officer, but with how he was feeling, he figured it might be better than toughing it out on the streets. And he was positive he could take on De Wolfe if he had a change of heart.
“I have to head to work still, would you tell me if you were the type to steal?” De Wolfe hesitates at the doorway.
Peter gets up and levels his worst unimpressed glare at the man.
“I can’t exactly afford to start replacing things.” De Wolfe says in defense of himself.
“I’m not going to steal your items.” Peter flops back down.
“Well, I’ll arrest you if you do. Earnestly this time.” De Wolfe says at the front door, “Good luck if you disappear before I come back.”
The door closes after that. Peter lets out a sigh and looks behind him, happy to see his mask and goggles were placed on the desk there. It was a relief to be alone again. As much as he could respect the agent’s company, in this state, he didn’t want to see anybody. Much less a work associate.
He closes his eyes at that.
—
It’s dusk when he wakes up. His head is much clearer and despite the new crick in his neck, his faster healing had done its job.
He stands up, stretching his back and testing his balance by rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. It was fine enough, he could go home. Aunt May was probably starting to get worried.
Before he can commit to leaving, he glances around the small apartment. It was a great time to learn more about the inspector, maybe about the bureau and investigations too.
Aunt May would have a heart attack if she knew she’d raised a snoop, but he considered this…an extraordinary situation. Normal rules didn’t apply.
He checks the drawers and cupboards first. In them he found nothing useful. Only one case file that dated back to a year ago, not very interesting. On his desk he found several profiles and reports on different events.
The dock records proved to be one of the more interesting reports. Outside of that Ellis Island and the local corporate district proved to be places he had to keep a closer eye on. He almost considered palming some of these, before remembering he promised to not steal anything. If there was one thing straight about him, it was that he kept his promises.
Afterwards he checks some hidden spots, finding a gun, a stash of cigarettes, a letter he doesn’t read and finally the most curious find. It was a selection of magazines, cleverly branded as fitness guides for men. Though Peter quickly recognizes their real purpose, a line of inconspicuous sports magazines made for queer men.
As he reads one, he hears the front door open and internally grimaces.
De Wolfe walks in on him holding the magazine a second later, just…staring at him. Peter could see a million emotions run through him, but his spider sense wasn’t going off, so he remained calm.
“I suppose I should’ve expected ‘not a thief’ didn’t mean you were a saint.” De Wolfe says, bordering on upset. He had every right to be, though Peter felt annoyed himself anyway.
“Well, consider it your own unmasking. You did do it to me after all.” Peter says, in defense of himself.
De Wolfe crosses his arms.
“Besides, you've got nothing to worry about. I fully support the queers of this city.” Peter sets the magazine down and stands up.
“Spider-Man is open minded?”
“Spider-Man fights for everyone .” Peter says, resting a hand on his shoulder with an amused expression.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” De Wolfe says with some pause.
Peter saunters down to where his mask is, planning to leave now that he’d seen all he could before getting caught.
He puts the mask on his face and snaps the goggles on. Before he leaves, he turns to the inspector, “And hey, if the fancy strikes you, ring me.”
Peter jumps out the window after that, shooting a web on the side of a building and heading for the direction he knew May’s house was in. Luckily it wasn’t too far from where he now knew the agent lived in. It was in a nicer part of town, clearly the man had some wealth to him. In these trying times that was everything.
His black webs leave remnants as he goes from one to the next, arching gracefully in between. At the last few houses he jumps to the side, climbing to the roof and then finishing the journey on foot.
Leaving his Spider-Man gear at the top part shed of May’s house, Peter jumps down to the front door. Once there, he opens the door and is greeted by May who asks where he’s been. It wasn’t very rare for him to be gone for days. She never failed to ask where he’d gone though. He could still remember the one time she’d known he was lying about where he’d been going as a younger child. Caught red handed sneaking into the abandoned dock building.
“I interviewed that new bureau agent; Jean De Wolfe. You mentioned you liked his honesty and decency once. I quite liked his company as well.” Peter explains, “Though I did break the man’s lamp, got to get a new one in town.”
—
There was a recent bust of an Italian mafia operation in New York. De Wolfe had led the sting and captured a selection of criminals higher in the mafia chain. It was a notable victory, one that was celebrated with a bigger news opportunity.
Peter had only seen De Wolfe once within the three or so weeks since he’d been nursed back to health. And that was in his Spider-Man persona, staying far away from the scurrying ants that was the investigation bureau. He had wanted to talk to the investigator since then, but he was never quite sure what angle to approach from.
Yesterday when he was invited to this by Jamison, he’d decided.
Jean talks to a myriad of reporters and officers alike. They all had congratulations or opinions on his recent bust. It sure was making his career, but all he could think of was how Spider-Man had made it possible, destroyed the necessary enforcers and terrorized them enough. Maybe that was just because his brain had never gotten past Spider-Man’s ‘ring me’.
He had thought about it a lot, day and night. Mostly frustrated that he had no real way to ring the vigilante. He wanted to , and he’d already learned to come to terms with it. Spider-Man was charming, he could give him that. He was so distinctively genuine and passionate while managing to maintain an aura of mystery and threat to those who didn’t know better.
It was problematic, he knew. Tolerating a vigilante was one thing, inviting him to bed was another one entirely. Though after debating with himself for hours, he’d come to understand it. After all, it didn’t just create problems, it also opened up solutions and opportunities.
“Mr.De Wolfe, there’s a certain Mr.Parker from the Bugle who wishes to speak with you.” One of his assistants tells him.
“Well, might as well, since it’s the Bugle. Won’t want them making up their own stories.” Jean sighs. The Bugle was always the worst.
The assistant leads him past a small crowd and into a less packed corner of the venue stand. At least he could breathe for a moment, before one of Jamison’s harpies tore into him for good headlines.
“I shall leave you to it Mr.De Wolfe.” The assistant excuses herself.
“You’re from the Daily Bugle Mr.Parker?” Jean starts, seeing the brown haired man turn from watching some other people converse.
“Yes.” The reporter says, making Jean grow silent as he immediately recognizes those features, “Though I am quite positive we’ve met in a different setting once or twice before.”
Parker holds out his hand with a slightly smug expression that doesn’t suit him at all. It also makes part of the inspector boil, seeing his impertinence. Though he supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised, he’d seen enough of Spider-Man, or Peter Parker, to know he had a mouth on him.
Jean grips his hand and pulls the other closer when he tries to pull away, “Awfully bold of you Mr.Parker.”
“Peter will do, Agent.” Parker, or Peter says, leveling a questioningly appraising look, “And didn’t you say you weren’t going to arrest me?”
“I suppose I should appreciate the vote of confidence.” Jean says, half to himself.
“Can't miss your big day.” Peter amends, “It’s well earned I’d say, and I’m here to cement that into the public’s eyes.”
Jean raises a brow, “Been watching my career with some interest have you, Peter?”
Peter shifts the notepad he’s holding with a near smile. It’s enough for Jean to finally decide to chance it. He couldn’t believe the opportunity was just staring him in the face, wearing rounded glasses and surrounded by a far too awkward presence.
“I’d imagine your girlfriend might be interested to hear about that.” Jean says, seeing what the final verdict would be.
“Oh no, she was never my girlfriend. We had some trysts…but times have changed.” Peter says, looking somber for the first time. He doesn’t furrow his brows for long, but it’s enough for Jean to get the picture. This might be messier than he thought. But oh well, the vigilante had had him at “Let’s dance” and Peter at “Yes”.
“You told me something about ringing you last time.”
Peter has the gall to look surprised, the large rims of his glasses doing little to hide the expression. He hates to admit that he finds it endearing, catching the faint beginnings of a flush on the reporter too.
“What? Didn’t leave your number behind for a reason?”
Peter halts, thinking back and then wincing. Apparently he’d operated under two assumptions: 1. That Jean would never call, 2. That he didn’t need to leave behind a number to be called. Jean needed this man now.
“You don’t seem very criminal oriented.” Peter finally says, shifting in place. His ability to avoid saying anything telling was certainly something.
“Call it a first time for everything if you will.” Jean continues, confident in his proposition. Anyone would look confident in comparison to the other right now though, “What do you say? I have something to give back at my apartment anyway.”
“I never offer if I’m not interested.” Peter states, getting some of his footing back, “But before we go I have something to give as well.”
He gives him a gesture to let him know to wait and disappears into the crowd. Jean fixes his collar as he waits, doing his best to keep in the moment instead of the future. As a college aged fellow he hadn’t found much chance to safely pursue anything. Even this wasn’t really safe. Peter was still a vigilante criminal, cute or not.
“Yes May, he’s right over there. I just have to get this with us too.” Jean hears Peter’s voice again. He looks over to see an elderly woman tagging along with him. He can’t help but joke that he wasn’t ready to meet Peter’s parents yet, they’d not even agreed on anything.
“You’re Agent De Wolfe?” She holds out her hand in a shake.
“Yes Ma’am, you’re Parker’s…?”
“I am his caretaker. Harder than you might imagine.” She says and ends with an impassive stare of expectancy towards Peter.
“Here’s the lamp I promised. I tried to get the closest to what you had before.” Peter says apologetically.
Mrs.Parker baps him over the head and he hastily adds, “And I’m really sorry I broke your last one!”
Jean holds back a small laugh, accepting the lamp with no further issues. If he was honest, the one he was given was notably better than the one that had broken. And it was sweet of Peter to give him one in the end. If they weren’t in public, he’d kiss him for it.
“It’s no trouble. I appreciate the gesture regardless.” He nods his head respectfully and then turns to Peter, “Are we going to finish this interview then?”
“Better to get it done early so I won’t have to trek back in the dark.” Peter says, looking skywards.
“Nonsense, dark or not I’ll drive you back.” Jean assures, catching the barest hint of a gentle smile from Mrs.Parker. She seemed a nice woman, “It’s been a pleasure Mrs.Parker and I still apologize for letting Dr.Octavius off Scott free after what he did.”
“It wasn’t your position to decide his punishment, Agent, don’t delude yourself into thinking otherwise. You do us all a great service by following the laws of this country.” She tells him immediately, leaving no room for argument. Something dark flashes in Peter’s eyes, reminding Jean that he was indeed the masked vigilante Spider-Man, despite soft appearances.
“I now see where he gets his activism from.” Jean states, “But you are of course right. No one should be above the law.”
Peter gives him a look but Jean ignores him.
“I’ll leave you to your job Peter, but don’t break any more of his furniture, you cannot keep affording to replace his household items if you hope to go to college.” Mrs.Parker rests a hand on Peter’s shoulder and then leaves to go mingle with the crowd.
“You’re going to study in college?” Jean asks, gesturing with his head for Peter to follow.
They walk a small distance and Peter puts his hands in his pocket, “When I save up enough working at the Bugle I intend to go and study science.”
“That’s a good aspiration. How do you intend to balance your other, less profitable… job with that?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there.” Peter says. He stops when he recognizes Jean’s car, confirming he’d been watching the inspector a fair amount.
He hops into the passenger side at the same time as Jean puts the lamp in his backseat. There was a lot of questions he wanted to ask Peter, but he figured using caution and patience was the best approach. Peter seemed skittish underneath all his bravado and awkwardness.
The other is fiddling with something in the book bag he’s brought when he settles into the driver side.
“It makes a fella think…” Jean starts as he gets the engine going and shifts into first, “What makes a vigilante? Especially one with your…capabilities?”
“Ask me again after dinner.” Peter says, staring out of the window, “And you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“I can make you something tomorrow if you see it prudent to answer me then. And for the record, there ain’t much that can catch me left footed.”
He catches a brief amused expression on the reporter, which only makes him more curious. How much weirder could a story involving superhuman powers get? He’d have to put on his best performance tonight and face tomorrow to find out.
“That’s quite alright, I wouldn’t want to impose.” Is the response he gets. It wasn’t too unexpected that the vigilante would be evasive, but Jean had hoped that bravado from earlier had meant he’d say a little more. Who revealed themselves to someone and then left it at that?
Jean tries a slightly different approach, “I really am sorry about letting Dr.Octavius go. His victims deserved closure.”
This gets a reaction out of Peter, “If I ever see him again, I am not holding back a second time. His kind of rabble is what this world doesn’t need.”
“I understand now that he hurt a friend of yours. While I’m more than relieved you were able to help him, I am curious too, what miracle did you perform?” Jean tries. He’d been glad to hear about it, when the gossip had reached the bureau, but no one had any clue how he’d done it. What did Spider-Man do to the man to fix the damage to his brain?
Peter turns to him with a look.
“Don’t say ‘you won’t believe me’.”
“Fine.” Peter agrees, “I traveled into an alternate reality which is about a thousand years advanced into the future. The physicians there helped him.”
The car is silent for a moment before Jean speaks again, “Ah. Is that…is that it?”
“Don’t believe me?” Peter asks and then rummages through his bag. A second later he pulls out a small object. An object that makes Jean’s eyes widen, it’s brighter than anything he’s seen in his entire life. He didn’t know what to call what was littering its appearance, but it was ungodly by existence, “It’s a children’s puzzle game from the future. You have to match all the sides with the same colors.”
“Those are colors? Why does it hurt to look at?” Jean asks, eyes still on the cube.
The car swerves and Peter puts away the object, “Eyes on the road. And you get used to it, though I’d recommend not asking too many questions yet.”
“I’m only leaving it as to not get sidetracked for the rest of the night.” Jean amends. After a minute of more silence, another question comes to mind, “How old are you exactly?”
Peter groans immediately, shifting in his chair to allow his hand to rest on top of the seat, “Do you interrogate everyone like this?”
“No. It’s not my fault I want to know more about who I’m bringing into my home and he isn’t offering up any conversation himself.” He says defensively to the accusation.
“Point taken…?” Peter hesitates on what to refer to him as.
“Jean.”
“Jean.” Peter says thoughtfully before continuing, “I’m nineteen, your dossier mentioned you’re twenty-two. You’ve had to have been in the force for a long time if you’re so high up the ladder this young. What got ya going?”
“My father. He served faithfully as a deputy and advisor after the War. With the connections he’d drummed up, I got an early start. Outside of that, I’d imagine if anyone would understand it’s you, on how the work is fulfilling. Makes you feel like someone .” He responds, thinking about his father, now moaning and groaning at home with a caretaker.
“You certainly are someone, Agent.” Peter agrees easily.
“So are you, Spider-Man .” Jean snorts.
He parks the car where he did last time, his usual space unoccupied due to a respect the apartment’s residents had for him. It was quite a nice space too, he wasn’t complaining.
Peter gets out of the car and picks up the lamp. Afterwards he follows Jean’s lead to the correct apartment number. About all the vigilante would remember is which floor he was on, looking from the outside. A weird concept in itself.
Going up five sets of stairs is much easier this time around, not having to carry a near dead criminal with an outfit that weighed more than the man himself. There’s also no neighbors this time around, most of them at work or more likely, languishing at home. Everyone knew there weren’t nearly enough jobs to get most going. It was a sad sight for America.
“You can set the lamp on the spot where you broke my last one.” Jean says, opening the door and shrugging off his coat. He was glad no one had seen them enter, he didn’t have to think of any potential cover stories yet.
Seeing Peter set the lamp down makes him remember he also had something to give. Or more so return.
He walks into his room and opens his drawer, catching the silver glint of the object immediately. It was something he’d taken from the station after it was concluded to hold no relevance to the case. No one would miss it, except for the owner.
“You dropped this last time. With a gun design like this, I figured it held some importance to you.” Jean holds out the firearm.
Peter accepts the gun, giving it a fond yet melancholic look, “You’re giving it back to me ?”
It’s here that Jean decides to level with him, putting on the table what his policy was going to be:
“As long as I can trust the man under the mask, I believe both of us can coexist in our work. I’ve had to acknowledge that you do some things I cannot and vice versa. But there has to be trust .” Jean rests his palm on top of the gun in Peter’s hand, “I’d consider myself a good judge of character and Peter, you look like a good man. I want to trust you.”
Peter glances down at his weapon, “This was the gun my Uncle Benjamin used during the Great War, he was ashamed of it for his whole life. Not long ago he was killed by gang violence. I’ve took it to continue this fight in his name. So no one else has to suffer like he did. I want to work with you, because I think you might be different. A good man among corruption and deceit. Someone we all need in these times. And I hope our methods never cross when we want the same thing.”
Jean smiles lightly, feeling a bit more relieved of the situation. When Peter looks back up from tucking the weapon away into his bag, Jean decides to solidify his move. He gently pulls the other into a chaste kiss, testing the waters. When Peter rests his arms on his shoulders, he knows they’re both on the same page about tonight.
Jean has no reservations for pulling Peter back in for more.
—
As Jean wakes up at some ungodly hour due to his telephone going off, he feels like murder. After a night like he had, waking up at this time was the last thing he wanted. However, if he was being called at…three in the morning apparently, it had to be urgent.
Peter shifts next to him, rolling away from being halfway under him. It makes Jean frown more.
The agent stands up and dutifully makes his way to the telephone. Once there, he picks up the receiver with half lidded eyes.
“A stack of bodies? Yes. I’ll be right over. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be there. Call in the rest, we’ll need them. Tell me if you spot the vigilante there.”
Speak of the devil as he hears Peter get out of bed in his room. Jean lays down the receiver and goes into his room, wiping away the sleep in his eyes. He spots the other pulling out clothing from his book bag.
“Where are you going?” Jean asks, slipping on his shirt and reaching for his dress pants.
“Same place as you are. There’s a case and I heard from your call where it is.” Peter responds, sloppily pulling up his pants.
Jean hums, buttoning up his suit. It was odd, thinking of them going to the same place through different means and as different people.
Right as the vigilante finishes up setting his gun holster, Jean decides to help him out by holding his trenchcoat up so he could easily slip his arms in. Peter gives the gesture an appreciative nod as he adjusts the coat.
Peter holds his mask in his hand as he asks, “Still no regrets, Jean?”
“Well, I did tell me boys that if you were truly working with us, you’d be wearing a badge and calling me Sir. Based on tonight, we’re already halfway there.” Jean says, enjoying the deep blush on the other.
Spider-Man puts on his mask and adjusts his gloves, giving Jean one final glance, “Try not to walk into a trap this time then.”
“As long as you try to win the next fight. Stay safe.” Jean says.
Spider-Man disappears out the window after that, lost in the sea of black that New York City was at night. Jean closes the window behind him
Afterwards he follows suit, though using the front door and his car to get to the crime scene.
—
It’s at six in the morning that Jean returns home, feeling particularly exhausted. Luckily no fight or scuffle had broken out at the crime scene, not any that weren’t handled by Spider-Man before they got there anyway. Jean was positive he would’ve been useless if one had.
He thinks of nothing but getting a few hours of extra sleep. Up until he notices his window is still open, blowing cold air in. Surely that didn’t mean..?
Jean walks into his bedroom, surprised as he spots Peter lying in his bed. He’d come back. Not that Jean minded, but he hadn’t anticipated it.
“Hope you don’t mind.” Peter yawns amidst that, “I didn’t want to wake up Aunt May at this time.”
“I don’t mind. How did you take out those guys earlier?” Jean asks with no real interest. He was too tired to care.
“Punched ‘em.” Peter answers dismissively, rolling to get more comfortable in the bed, though he does look up afterwards, looking a bit hesitant, “Should I leave in the morning or would you…like to do something today?”
Jean falls into his bed, internally sighing at the comfort of laying back down when he was tired. Afterwards he responds:
“If nothing else comes up we can head to the local bakery, with my earnings we can buy something and bring it back to Mrs.Parker if you’d like?” Jean suggests.
Peter lights up at the suggestion, seemingly waking up now. He offers up an earnest smile when he says, “I’d really like that.”