Chapter Text
Peter Parker was late again. Not late enough to get fired, but late enough to earn a glare as he slipped through the doors of the corner store. His boss sighed, running his hands through his hair that was beginning to gray.
"Parker, I don't know what I'm going to do with you," The man spoke, exasperated.
Peter flashed a smile. His boss's glare softened.
"Sorry, boss, you know how Queens traffic is," Peter said, smiling sheepishly and standing behind the counter. He didn't mention that he'd been grabbed by Toomes and dropped from above the Empire State Building. Thankfully, he was able to react and swing away just before hitting the ground, but damn, that was a shocker at 7:00 am on a bright, summer Monday. And unfortunately for his ego and the citizens of New York, Toomes got away again.
"Yeah, yeah, just get to work." His boss says, entering the back of the store to snap at one of Peter's coworkers to restock the shelves.
The air was stale, and not many people came in this early. Well, a couple of them wandered in for the cheap coffee, and others grabbed energy drinks. Some grabbed a cold breakfast from the fridges. Everyone just seemed tired. And Peter understood that. He was practically sleeping on the cold counter, zoning out every other minute, fighting to keep his eyelids open.
Thing is, Peter had to work. He would've loved to spend his summer sleeping in, hanging out with Ned, MJ, Johnny, Sue, Reed, or Ben. But he had to keep helping Aunt May. She hardly came home anymore because of how much she was working. Most people would assume that Peter resented her for it. But he actually respected her and loved her just as much, if not more, for fighting to keep a home for Peter and her.
"Hey Pete," a store's regular, a kind man who came in for a hot coffee in the mornings. "How's everything going?" He asked as he reached for his wallet.
"Pretty good. Slow morning, like usual. You? How's the wife?" Small talk was a favorite part of his day.
"Oh, she's great. Staying at home with our daughter, Anne. Thanks for asking," he smiled kindly and paid, leaving Peter in silence once again.
—-
After his shift (legally, as much as he tried to fight it, he could only work 5 hours as a teen) he popped in his earbuds and started walking home.
The sound of the keys jangling rang through his ears as he walked through the empty apartment, sitting on his bed. For one thing, he was grateful that it was summer. So much easier to work, to save the city, and to save time to recharge, sleep, and eat. He set his bag down and changed into his suit.
The fabric felt raw against his bruises and scrapes he'd aquired the past few days, but he pushed through and pulled it on.
Then he jumped out his window.
And once again, he was off.
At 1:30, Peter saved a cat that was stuck in a tree. He got lots of thanks, and some snotty hugs from the little kids who had been bawling their eyes out.
At 3:00, Peter saved a lady from getting mugged. She nearly punched him, but realized he was on her side. He was rewarded with 25 dollars and a kiss on (his masked) cheek.
By 5:00, nothing super awful was happening. He'd stopped some petty bike and car thefts. Today was much more chill compared to other patrols. If only Toomes would come out in these times, where Peter wasn't doing much, and was prepared to fight.
It was now 7:00. Peter's phone buzzed. It was his best friend, Johnny Storm. "Come around tn? weve all missed u"
His first instinct was to say no. He could still patrol. He could do little things to earn some cash on the side. He could do homework or study. But right now, as he felt his migraine begin to bore into his skull, all Peter needed was a break.
——
Johnny's place was small, unkept, and dirty. But it was also the place where Peter felt the most loved, accepted, and seen. His best friends, The Fantastic Four, were usually busy or out of state doing some more important work. But now, they were home, and Peter could hang around all he wanted.
"Hey, Peter," Sue says, opening the door. She pulls him into a much-needed hug. He walks in and is greeted by everyone in a similar fashion.
Peter plopped onto the couch beside Johnny.
"Aw, dude, we were just watching some 'New York Spider-Man Epic Fights' on YouTube!" Johnny chirped, cracking himself up.
"I hate you."
"Love you too!"
It was hard for Peter to hold back his own smile. Though it was strained and tired, it was a real one.
Johnny suddenly cocked his head. "Did you eat?"
Peter blinked. "What?"
"Did. You. Eat?" He spoke each word slowly and obnoxiously drawn out.
Peter rolled his eyes. "Mom."
Ben, who was walking over anyway, tosses him a bag of chips. "Eat up, Parker."
"Yeah, then I'll let you hit the penjamin," Johnny sighed, smiling contentedly as he inhaled and puffed out smoke. The familiar smell was blown right into Peter's face. He didn't mind.
After Peter scarfed down his snack, Johnny passed him the pen.
Peter took a hit, then handed it back.
Reed was reading something. Sue was braiding her hair, getting frustrated, taking it out, and braiding it again. And Johnny was hazy but content, chowing down on his own bag of salt and vinegar chips.
Spider-Man wasn't needed in a room full of other heroes. But Peter Parker was wanted.
To others, they'd be seen as untrustworthy teens. Delinquents. Those who disobeyed the law and snuck around to smoke.
In reality, it was the opposite. All of them were so tired from constantly fighting villains and saving others that they never really got the chance to save themselves. These were the only folks who knew about Peter being Spider-Man. It was the only place where he could talk about both his struggles and his issues as Peter and as Spidey.
"When are you next leaving?" Peter asked, trying to hide the dread that laced his tone.
"Tomorrow afternoon." Ben piped up.
Johnny seemed to sense the shift in Peter's mood. "All we wanted was to stay too. Someone spotted Mole Man in California. Can you believe it? Duty calls, I guess." But Johnny took a long hit and leaned back, letting the smoke hover above him.
Peter, unfortunately, understood. "We never really do catch a break, do we?"
"Nope."
Tomorrow the fantastic four would leave. Tomorrow aunt may would take anther double shift.
For now, though, he took the pen from Johnny and sunk further into the couch. For now, that was enough.