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There’s a lot of things Peter would do for Ned, among them lying, cheating, stealing, murder. Probably. Ned’s just that great of a guy—it’s the least he could do. That’s his guy in the chair! His best friend, his brother.
Peter wouldn’t trade their friendship for the world. They’ve gone through everything together; Middle school, high school, getting bullied in middle and high school…
Point is, Peter loves Ned. He really does.
Now, he’s not entirely sure how befriending the only other Star Wars fan in his 4th grade class turned into being 19 and being terrorized by a cat, but here Peter is, staring at the ruins that were once his apartment and regretting ever meeting Ned.
—
It all starts one sunny Friday morning. Peter’s having a good day, a better day than usual, and is honestly doing pretty well. He’s got the day off, the sun is shining, and he might even go out on patrol.
And then Ned shows up.
Ned shows up with his cat.
Peter can barely get a hello out before a carrier is being shoved at him. He blinks in surprise, recognizing the carrier as one belonging to Ned’s cat (from Hell), Anakin. When he looks back up at Ned, he notices a backpack on his back and some sort of box in his other hand. “Oh, no,” he says, already shaking his head.
“Please,” Ned says. “It’ll only be three days! I really need this, dude.”
“He hates me,” Peter says. “He hates me, and he’ll probably kill me in my sleep.”
Ned frowns. “He’s a sweetheart,” he says, “C’mon, the other guy I asked bailed, and I can’t miss this wedding!” He sighs. “Please. I’ll pay you, or buy you food, or—or that new Lego set, I just—”
Peter wants to say no. He really wants to say no. There’s so many things he could spend the weekend doing, like enjoying his peace and quiet and all the other benefits of a cat-less life, or going out as Spider-Man without worrying about the destruction of his apartment while he’s gone.
But it’s Ned, and of course Peter has to say yes, because where would he be without Ned? What about all the thing’s Ned’s done for him? He’d be a terrible friend to say no, so—
“Fine. I’ll watch him,” Peter says. “But you owe me. Big time.”
Ned practically sags with relief before nodding eagerly. He gives Peter the box, telling him, “It’s a litter box—A portable one for things like this,” and then he shoulders off his backpack, setting it just inside the door when he realizes Peter’s hands are full. “That’s—That’s everything he needs, but just in case, I left you the key to my apartment, so if you ever run out of something, you can get in.”
Peter nods, absently, still mentally processing the fact that he’s going to have to spend the next 3 days of his life with a cat that hates his guts. He sets the carrier down just beside the door, and rests the litter box beside it. “Three days,” he says. “Three days, and that’s it.”
“Three days,” Ned confirms. “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver, dude. I thought I was gonna have to cancel my flight!”
“I mean, you still can… ” Peter says, a small grin forming on his face. “But you won’t, because I’m watching him. Even if he hates me.”
Ned smiles. “I’m serious. You’re a lifesaver,” he says, then crouches down in front of Anakin’s carrier. “Be good, Anakin, okay? I like Peter—you should, too.”
When he stands back up, he holds a hand out to begin their signature, overly complicated handshake. “Be safe, man,” Peter says when they break apart. “I don’t trust planes.”
“That’s because you keep crashing them,” Ned says, shaking his head. “Alright, I gotta go. Text me if anything happens. And I mean, anything. Like, if he—”
“You’ll be the first to know if Anakin so much as sneezes,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, beginning to usher Ned out of the apartment. “Go catch your flight, I’ve got this.”
With a final wave, Ned heads out the door, leaving Peter alone with Anakin. Peter shuts the door and leans back against it, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t got this,” he says to the open air. “At all.”
A moment later, he opens Anakin’s crate door, and grabs the other supplies, figuring he should probably set up the litter box before someone has an accident. Though, knowing Anakin, it wouldn’t be an accident.
In the few minutes it takes Peter to properly set up the litter box, Anakin manages to knock 4 plates off of the kitchen counter. And not clean plates, either.
So here Peter stands in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the mess of broken shards and day-old food. “Sweetheart my ass,” he grumbles, already heading off to retrieve his dustpan.
As he sweeps, Anakin sits innocently atop the counter, licking one of his paws. It’s like he’s mocking him, like he knows he’s getting under Peter’s skin. “I don’t like you,” he tells Anakin. “I know Ned thinks you’re a perfect angel that can do no wrong, but I know who you are.”
Anakin tilts his head. Blinks. He’s probably laughing at me, too, Peter thinks. If he squints, he can almost imagine a Cheshire Cat smile across his evil, little face.
A moment later, Anakin is jumping down and skittering across the floor, probably in search of something else to destroy. Peter doesn’t have the energy to follow him. He heaves a sigh, leaning forward and letting his head thunk against the cabinet in front of him. “Three days,” he mutters. “Three days. That’s it.”
It’s the distinct sound of fabric ripping that has him up and moving again.
—
Just when Peter thinks his weekend can’t get any worse, it gets worse.
The very next morning, Anakin manages to knock an open bottle of syrup over, effectively dumping it all over himself. Granted, it’s really Peter’s fault for leaving an open bottle of syrup out—he’s a slob sometimes, sure. Sue him. Whatever. He’s a perfectly functional slob, thank you very much. Perfectly functional when there isn’t a cat trying to ruin his life, at least.
It’s a fight to pick Anakin up, and even more of a fight to get him in the bathtub. Peter hates it. Anakin hates it. Nobody is happy—something Peter has thought a lot these days. His hands are sticky and Anakin is wailing every time the water touches him, and all Peter can do is pray his neighbors don’t call in a noise complaint.
By the end of it, Anakin is still half-syruped, Peter’s arms have been clawed so badly that he’s bleeding profusely, and the entire bathroom is soaked. The second the door is open, Anakin bolts, spreading soapy, syrupy water throughout the entire apartment.
Barely a day in, and Peter already has it in his mind that he’s going to kill Ned when he gets back. And the cat. Definitely the cat.
He cleans and bandages his arms, hissing in pain as he works despite all the times he’s patched himself up after patrol. Somehow, this is almost worse.
Just as Peter finishes packing his supplies away, his ears pick up the sound of something being torn up. Again. He rushes out into the living room to catch Anakin clawing his couch. Again. “Dude! Are you fucking—” he clasps his hands together, bringing his knuckles to his lips as he takes a deep breath. “I hate my life.”
And fuck, he might kill the cat before Ned even makes it back! Call him curiosity, or whatever the fuck makes the idea easier to stomach. Anakin makes eye contact before dragging his claws through the fabric of the couch once more—it’s almost as if he’s challenging Peter. Waiting for him to act first.
But Peter doesn’t know what to do, so he just sinks down onto one of the ruined couch cushions, and lets himself deflate. “You win,” he says, tiredly. “Go crazy. I don’t care. Leave me alone.” He maneuvers himself onto his side, settling in as comfortably as he possibly can and closing his eyes.
Somewhere along the way, the scratching stops. Peter opens one eye, looking around suspiciously, but finds Anakin hopping up to his windowsill and stretching out in the sun. He doesn’t dare react, doesn’t even move an inch, out of fear that the slightest movement might set him off again.
He does breathe out a sigh of relief, though, sending a silent thank you to his ceiling for the rare moment of peace. Maybe things are finally looking up, he thinks. He just had to warm up to me.
But just as Peter has finally, finally, begun to drift off to sleep, there’s a knock at the door that has Anakin shooting up from his spot and taking off in the opposite direction. Peter pulls a pillow over his face, screaming into it as a few frustrated tears slip down his face.
As he walks to the door, part of him is praying it’s Ned, or someone coming to assassinate him for being Spider-Man. Either works, he’s really not picky.
To his surprise, it’s Tony at the door. “Hey, kid,” he says. “I was just… in the area, decided I’d do some charity work and take an orphan out for lunch. What do you say? Spend time with your old man?”
Peter rolls his eyes. “Since when are you ever just randomly in Queens?” he says. “And, last time I checked, you’re not my old man.”
“Okay, fine. I just wanted to check up on you. Is that so bad? I can’t visit my favorite intern?”
“I’m your only intern,” Peter says. “And I don’t feel like your favorite. You just called me charity work.”
Tony puts his hands up, giving a half-assed shrug. “What can I say? I’ve got a bleeding heart. Dedicated my whole life to helping the poor,” he says. “Seriously, though. Lunch? You and me?”
“I—” Peter almost accepts the offer, but then he remembers Anakin. “Can’t.”
“What, you got a hot date or something?” Tony teases. “You really don’t have the time to get lunch with me?”
Peter drags his hands through his hair, sighing. “I want to get lunch with you, I just…” his words taper off when the smile slides right off Tony's face in a manner that can only be described as violent. “Um?”
Tony grabs one of his arms, turning it over so his wrist is facing upward. He ghosts his fingers over the skin, looking almost horrified as he does so. “Kid,” he whispers.
“What are you—” Peter blinks, fully processing the state of his wrist, of the cat scratches along it. “Oh my god.” He yanks his arm back. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Really?” Tony says, “Because, what it looks like—”
“I’m not… hurting myself,” Peter interrupts. “There’s—it was a cat.”
Tony doesn’t seem too convinced. “You don’t own a cat,” he says. “You know you can talk to me about these things, right? I know I’m not the best at feelings, but I’m still here.”
He tries to step into the apartment, but Peter pushes in front of him, wide eyed and blocking his path. “Don’t go in there,” he warns. Begs. “Please, it’s—don’t?”
Tony canes his neck to look past Peter and see the disaster that is his apartment. His frown only deepens when he looks back at Peter. “Have you been crying?”
Peter lets out a distressed sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and leans forward to drop his head against Tony’s shoulder. “A cat’s ruining my life,” he whines. “Please, kill me. I can’t take it anymore.”
“A cat,” Tony repeats skeptically, though he still wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders to pull him close. “You’re telling me there’s actually a cat in there.”
“There’s actually a cat in there,” Peter says. “I’m cat-sitting for Ned, and his cat is evil. And his name’s Anakin! Like, come on. How could he not be evil?”
Tony pushes Peter off him gently, cupping his face with his hands. “You realize you’re Spider-Man, right?” he asks, trying to coax a smile out of Peter. “A cat has nothing on you.”
The corners of Peter’s mouth twitch upward, but he still feels 2 seconds from bursting into tears. “He’s really mean, Tony,” he says. “You don’t understand.”
“How about I come in and help you deal with him?” Tony offers. “Think that might help?”
Peter nods, and finally steps aside to let Tony into the apartment. “It’s a mess,” he says, turning around to shut the door. “Sorry.” He watches Tony walk around, taking in the sight of everything Anakin has destroyed. Anakin still has yet to make an appearance, and that much makes him nervous. What is he planning?
Tony lets out a low whistle. “He really did a number on… everything, didn’t he?” he says, nearing the kitchen. “Is that glass? Why is there broken glass everywhere?”
“Again?” Peter asks, defeated. He doesn’t have the heart to feel surprised anymore. He’s just tired. “I’m gonna run out of dishes, man.”
Peter grabs his broom and dustpan, but before he can get to cleaning, Tony takes them from him. “Go sit down,” he says. “I’ll pick up.”
“Do you even know how to use a broom?” Peter asks.
Tony huffs. “Yeah, you leave it by a mess and wait for one of your fifteen maids to do it for you,” he says. “Yes, I know how to use a broom.” He ruffles Peter’s hair before shoving him away. “Punk.”
For a moment, as he walks to the couch, Peter finds himself smiling. Sure, his home is in ruins and there is a literal demon running loose right now, but that’s nothing a little break can’t fix, right?
Right?
By the time Tony is done sweeping, Peter’s eyes are closed and he’s trying to catch any sleep he can manage—which isn’t much, but he’ll take what he can get.
“Hey,” Tony says, kicking Peter’s foot.
Peter cracks an eye open, doing his best to look intimidating as he glares at Tony. “What?”
“I’m ordering us some food,” Tony says. “What do you want? Thai? You like Thai. Let’s have Thai.” he pauses, taking a look at Peter. “How much sleep did you get last night?”
“Oh, tons,” Peter mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “You know me, always… sleeping. No distractions or anything.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh,” he says. “Well, you look like shit.”
“Hey!” Peter says, frowning. “I miss twenty minutes ago when you thought I was hurting myself. You were nicer.”
“You’re Spider-Man, and you’re losing a fight to a cat,” Tony says. “Don’t you rescue them from trees for a living?”
Peter sighs, gesturing wordlessly and nonsensically around himself. “Demon cat,” he offers. “The ones in trees are grateful for the help.”
“I think you might be exaggerating,” Tony says. “I haven’t even seen the damn thing—he can’t be that bad.”
“He is that bad, thank you.”
Tony puts his hands up in surrender, obviously amused. “Alright,” he says, very much not convinced.
Peter is about to say something more when he feels that familiar buzz of a warning at the back of his head. He tenses up, head swiveling as he tries to find the source of the danger, but his eyes land on Anakin as he sneaks up behind Tony.
“Tony,” Peter gasps, pointing to Anakin. “Tony, he’s gonna—”
But to his surprise, Anakin simply moves to nuzzle against Tony’s leg—as if he’s teasing him, trying to convince Tony he’s crazy. “Hey, buddy,” Tony coos, a smile on his face as he bends down to pet the cat. He glances back up at Peter. “This is the cat?”
“But he—” For a fleeting moment, Peter considers the possibility that he might actually be losing it. Maybe.
“You sure he doesn’t have some evil twin you’re forgetting about?” Tony scratches Anakin’s chin, and Peter can hear him purring. It’s the first time he’s heard him purr, ever.
Peter sniffles, face crumpling as those pesky tears of frustration make their unwanted return. He sinks down into the couch cushion until he’s lying curled up on his side, and hides his face in his hands. “I hate this stupid cat.”
He can hear Tony sigh, and then the shuffling of his feet as he moves to kneel in front of the couch. “Hey,” he says, nudging Peter. “Buddy. Come on, look at me.”
Reluctantly, Peter lowers his hands. “I hate him,” he croaks out. “He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Tony says softly. “Maybe he can sense your fear. You’re freaking him out.”
“Good,” Peter grumbles. “I’m gonna cook him for dinner.”
Tony gives a sympathetic smile, patting Peter on the leg. “I’ll get us some lunch.”
—
Tony’s presence—any third being in a room with them, really—seems to calm Anakin. It’s as if he’s done a full 180 to his behavior with just Peter—it’s almost bizarre.
Almost.
Peter knows Anakin’s just keeping up appearances. It’s Tony Stark, after all—do cats know who Tony Stark is? He’s Ned’s cat. He has to know. Maybe he’s trying to get in cahoots with the man, and end up his intern, maybe take over Peter’s whole life, become Spider-Man, the works. Typical cat stuff.
He really wouldn’t put it past him, anyway. There’s evil behind his eyes, an evil Peter can only imagine possessed by phony, snobby billionaires; The kind that side-eye him when he accompanies Tony to one of his many charity galas.
He’d make a great politician, Peter’s sure.
“Thanks for lunch,” Peter says, shoving a forkful of food into my mouth. “Prob’ly wouldn’t’ve eaten anything if you didn't show up.”
“And you wonder why I come by to check on you,” Tony mutters.
Peter pouts. “I thought you came by ‘cause I’m your favorite intern?”
“You’re my only intern,” Tony says with an easy shrug. “Technically, you’re my least favorite, too.”
“Charming.”
Tony grins, throwing his hands up as if to say, I know I am. He pats Peter on the shoulder before returning to his meal. “Speaking of feeding yourself, have you fed the cat yet?”
“Ned only feeds him once around dinner,” Peter says. “But I was thinking about starving him if he keeps tearing up my furniture.” The last bit of the sentence comes out in a yell, voice raised as Peter glares at Anakin.
“You’re too nice to do that,” Tony says. “You and your bleeding heart.”
Peter bristles. “I think you’re using that term wrong.”
“You still got my point, didn’t you?” Tony says. “You’re gonna feed him tonight, even if he tries to scratch your eye out today.”
“Yeah,” Peter says with a sigh, stabbing at his food with a renewed frustration. “Stupid moral code, stupid—stupid… cat.”
Tony snorts. “You’re losing a fight to a cat.”
“You’ve mentioned that, yes,” Peter says, shooting a glare in Tony’s direction. “He’s on a mission to ruin my life.” He pauses, then, “Does Hydra have cats? Maybe he’s from Hydra. I dunno.”
“I think you’re giving Hydra too much credit,” Tony says. “And don’t you think he would’ve killed you by now? All he’s killed is your couch… and your plates.”
Peter tilts his head to look up at Anakin, who’s sitting in the windowsill grooming himself. “He’s planning something. I know he is,” he mutters, before raising his voice to ask, “Who do you work for?”
“Do you know how insane you sound?” Tony says. “You sound insane. You are insane.”
“I fight crime in spandex, Tony,” Peter says, pointing his fork at Tony to punctuate his words. “That’s insane.”
Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re accusing a cat of being an assassin. From Hydra.”
“Remember that one cat that shot lasers out of its eyes?” Peter says. “And we had to stop it from destroying Brooklyn?”
“That was an alien pretending to be a cat,” Tony argues, beginning to sound resigned. “Anakin’s just a cat with an attitude. You know, now that I’m thinking of it, I’m surprised you two don’t get along.”
“Ha-ha,” Peter deadpans. “Funny.”
Tony shrugs. “I’m not wrong.”
“You’re definitely something,” Peter says. “Not sure what, but…”
“You’re probably thinking charming, handsome, incredibly charismatic…”
Peter rolls his eyes. “Annoying, maybe?”
“You’re seriously calling me annoying? After all I’ve done?” Tony says. “Do you want me to leave? I’ll leave.”
“No, no,” Peter says, a little frantic as he waves his hands. “You stay. If anyone's going to leave, it’ll be me.”
“Like I said; Losing a fight to a cat.”
Peter groans, dropping his container of food down onto the table before throwing himself dramatically against the couch cushion. “Aliens are easier.”
“Hey,” Tony says firmly. “Remember the aliens we fought last week? Don’t jinx it.”
“They were so slimy,” Peter says with a shudder. “At least my apartment was fine when we fought them, though.”
Tony nods. “Speaking of—your couch is falling apart,” he says, pulling at a loose thread. “Did you dumpster dive for it, too?”
Peter narrows his eyes. “No, I didn’t dumpster dive for a couch. I’ve been taking care of a demon for two days.”
“Do you want a new one? I can buy you a new one.”
“Couches are expensive,” Peter says. “Don’t waste your money.”
Tony gives him a look. “Do you forget I’m a billionaire on purpose, or do I need to remind you that I could buy you an entire warehouse full of couches? Hundreds of warehouses.”
“Are you annoying on purpose?”
“Occasionally,” Tony says. “Who else would I bother?”
“Your friends? Your fiancée? I don’t know,” Peter says. “Don’t you pay Happy to let you bother him?”
Tony seems to consider it. “I pay you to let me bother you, too,” he says. “Even if you barely come around for lab time anymore.”
“Is quitting an option?”
“You can quit when you’re done watching the cat,” Tony says. “But I’m sure you’ll be crawling back to me by then.”
Peter huffs. “I’ll be crawling away from you,” he says. “You’re no help.”
“I’m no help?” Tony scoffs, offended. “I cleaned your kitchen, bought you lunch, and am the only thing keeping Anakin from tearing your face off. I’ve done nothing but help!”
“Whatever. I don’t like you,” Peter grumbles. Then, a moment later, “Thank you.”
Tony pats him on the shoulder, giving him a small smile. “Of course.”
The rest of Tony’s time with Peter is spent watching shitty daytime TV, and cleaning up the apartment. It’s not the most ideal way to spend a Saturday afternoon, but it’s certainly better than yesterday went for Peter.
By the time Tony decides to head out, Peter is left with a weight off his chest and a kitchen not full of broken glass. He sits back down on the couch, relaxing into one of the torn up cushions, and lets out a long sigh.
…And then Anakin manages to climb on top of his TV, and the stress begins anew.
—
Sunday finally rolls around, and Peter could cry. He hasn’t been this happy since that time he met Thor at a Christmas party and he let him hold his hammer (which was cool, but not as cool as Thor).
He packs up Anakin’s stuff with a smile on his face, shooting him the occasional glare. “Good riddance,” he mutters. “I’m never watching you again. Ever.”
Anakin simply lifts his leg and continues licking himself. Asshole.
As Peter packs, he realizes there’s a new couch in the living room; it’s a nice shade of green, looks more expensive than the entire apartment itself, and has taken place of the beat up gray one he used to have.
Peter stares at it for a moment. He didn’t even hear Tony bring it in. How the hell did he even get into the apartment? Then he looks to Anakin, who seems to have followed his gaze and is staring at the couch with an evil look in his eyes. “I wasn’t kidding about cooking you,” he warns. “I’ll do it. I don’t care about you.”
Anakin returns to licking himself. Yeah. Asshole.
When Ned shows up, Peter has to resist the urge to kiss him. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he says instead, grabbing Ned by the arms and squeezing tight.
“That bad?” Ned asks, sounding genuinely concerned.
“So bad,” Peter says, plastering on a smile and moving to let Ned into the apartment. “How was the wedding?”
Ned shrugs. “It was a wedding,” he says, shrugging. “You know how it is. They kissed and ate cake. It was cool.”
Peter raises an eyebrow. “You cried through the whole thing?”
“Loudly,” Ned says, hanging his head in shame. “How was Anakin?”
“Oh, he was an angel,” Peter deadpans. “We held hands and sang kumbaya all weekend.”
Ned shoots Peter a pleading look. “I’m serious,” he says.
“You really wanna know?” A nod. “He was horrible. Tony had to help me out.”
“Tony Stark met my cat?” Ned all but shouts, his volume alone making Peter wince. Then, in a quieter voice, “You’re serious?”
Peter nods. “He came to invite me out for lunch, but I was…” Having a crisis? 3 seconds from murdering Anakin? “...in need of some help.”
“And Anakin liked him?”
“Cuddled right up to him,” Peter mutters, trying not to sound too bitter about it.
Ned beams with pride. “He takes after me,” he says. “I’d cuddle up to Tony Stark if it ever came up.”
“Remind me to never leave you alone with him,” Peter says. “Ew.”
“Tell me you wouldn’t do the same if it was Thor!” Ned says. “You can’t. You know you can’t.”
Peter pulls a face. “That’s different.”
Ned puts his hands up, a smug grin on his face. “Is it, though?” he says, flopping back onto the couch. He pauses. Frowns. “New couch?”
“Yeah,” Peter says, cringing at the way his voice cracks. “Just… wanted a change?”
Ned sighs, looking between Peter and Anakin, who’s suddenly made himself known upon hearing Ned. “He destroyed your couch.”
“He destroyed my couch,” Peter confirms, solemnly. The old couch wasn’t even that great, but it was his. A lot of memories were made on that couch. A lot of blood was bled out onto it, too. Maybe it was for the best, actually. Should he be thanking Anakin? “Also, there’s a bunch of broken glass in my trash can, and my arms are like, super scratched up, and—”
“Really?” Ned asks, eyes going wide. “Dude, why didn’t you tell me?”
Peter shrugs. “I wanted you to enjoy the wedding,” he says. “I’m Spider-Man, I can handle a little cat.”
“But you should’ve told me,” Ned says. “I just—ugh. I knew you two didn’t get along, but I really wanted you to, ‘cause you’re basically his uncle, you know?”
“I’m his uncle?” Peter asks, voice wavering. He’s not entirely sure why that has him emotional—maybe it’s the significance behind an uncle figure to him, or the fact that he’s gotten what feels like negative hours of sleep in the past three days, but still. An uncle. He can’t help but wonder how he’ll be feeling when Ned has actual, real, not-furry children. “Ned.”
Ned shrugs, as if it’s been obvious the whole time. “I mean, he doesn’t like you, like, at all, but… I’d like to think you are,” he says. “He has to get used to you eventually, right?”
“It’s been two years, Ned,” Peter says. “Maybe he’ll come around when he’s old and blind… and deaf… and loses his sense of smell. And any other way to identify me.”
“This is why he doesn’t like you,” Ned says. “He hears you talking about him like this, and it makes him hate you more.”
Peter crosses his arms, turning to stare at Anakin. “Good,” he says. “I had to bathe him, you know. And I didn’t do it ‘cause I like him. I did it for you.”
“And I’m very thankful for that,” Ned says. “You had to bathe him?”
“Why do you think he scratched up my arms so bad?” Peter says. “He got into my syrup, and got syrup everywhere.”
Ned presses his lips into a thin line. “I’ll buy you more syrup,” he says. “And new… whatever else he got into.”
“Yeah,” Peter says. “That’d be great.”
Peter helps Ned load all of Anakin’s belongings up into his arms. They both choose to ignore the day-old syrup left on some of the items, the residue coming off slightly sticky in certain places. Anakin, of course, doesn’t so much as send a glare in Peter’s direction, as if he’s too focused on being Ned’s perfect little angel to even think about doing something evil.
“Thank you for this,” Ned says as he moves to head out. “Seriously, man. I owe you.”
Peter smiles. “You’re my best friend,” he says. “I’d do it again if I had to.”
“Well, I can’t afford to buy you another couch if you do,” Ned says. “I’ll stick to asking other people.”
“Yeah, that’s…” Peter nods, “Probably for the best.”
He watches Ned walk away with a hand on the door, nearly closing it when Ned turns around abruptly, brows furrowed in deep thought. “Hey, Peter?” he says.
Peter tilts his head curiously. “Yeah?”
“D’you think Anakin hates you because you’re a spider?”
Peter pauses, mouth falling open as he tries to come up with a reason Ned’s wrong, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth then opens it again, looking like a bad impression of a fish. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding—”