Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun dipped behind the skyscrapers, casting long shadows across the bustling sidewalks of Midtown. Peter Parker walked with his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his shoulder occasionally brushing against Felicia Hardy's as they weaved through the crowd. She'd insisted on taking the scenic route after their rooftop "patrol" had turned into more flirting than actual crime-fighting.
"You know," Felicia teased, bumping him lightly with her hip, "for a guy who swings across the city on webs, you sure walk slow. Afraid I'll outpace you in civilian mode?"
Peter chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Hey, cut me some slack. I burned through, like, three hot dogs just trying to keep up with your idea of 'light exercise.'"
As they rounded the corner, a brightly lit toy shop caught their attention. The display window was an explosion of red and blue, packed with Spider-Man action figures in every pose imaginable: web-slinging, crouching, perched on gargoyles, even one hanging upside down.
Peter slowed to a stop.
Felicia's grin immediately turned mischievous.
"Ohhh, look at that." She gestured toward the display. "Your miniature army is thriving, Spider. Tell me you at least get a cut of all this. A little 'thanks for saving New York, here's your royalty check'?"
Peter let out a dry laugh and shook his head.
"Not a penny. Turns out saving the city doesn't come with a licensing agreement."
Felicia slipped her arm through his, smirking.
"Poor little Spider. All that work and no merch money. I'd be furious."
Her eyes wandered toward the far corner of the display.
Nestled behind a stack of Spider-Man vehicles Peter was fairly certain he'd never driven sat a small Black Cat plushie. Soft black fabric, white fur accents on the mask and gloves, a tiny bell around its neck, and a stitched smirk that captured her perfectly. A miniature grappling hook even hung from its hip.
Felicia blinked twice before a slow smile spread across her face.
"Well, well..." she purred. "Would you look at that. They made one of me."
She rested a hand dramatically against her chest.
"I'm flattered. Clearly the public has excellent taste."
Peter smiled.
"You deserve it. It's pretty cute, too. Really captures the whole 'I could rob you blind and you'd thank me' vibe."
Her smile lingered... then slowly faded.
She took another look at the display.
Her plushie wasn't featured beside Spider-Man. It was tucked into the corner, almost hidden behind the mountain of Spider merchandise.
"...Wait a second."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I never approved this."
She stepped closer to the glass, tapping it with one gloved finger.
"I didn't sign any licensing deal. Nobody even asked me."
She folded her arms.
"They're selling my likeness and I'm not seeing a dime? And they shoved me into the corner like some side character?"
Peter bit back a laugh.
"Welcome to my world, Cat. At least yours is plush. Mine usually have plastic joints that snap after one web swing."
Felicia straightened, indignation giving way to theatrical outrage.
"This is unacceptable." She pointed toward the window. "I deserve royalties."
She turned toward Peter, poking him lightly in the chest with a manicured nail.
"You're the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Do something about this."
Her voice softened into its familiar, playful purr.
"...Or I may have to go full cat burglar on that display tonight."
Peter raised both hands in surrender.
"Easy there. I'm not exactly on speaking terms with the people making these things."
He glanced back at the plushie before grinning.
"But... if you really want it, we could always come back later and... liberate it. Strictly for moral support, of course."
Felicia's eyes sparkled with trouble.
"Now you're speaking my language, Web-Head."
She leaned in and brushed a quick kiss against his cheek.
"Lead the way, hero."
A sly smile curled across her lips.
"If I don't get my cut, someone's getting scratched."