Chapter Text
It's Spider-Man night at The Underground and if Peter was running on more than two hours of sleep and a Red-bull he might be able to find more humor in that.
Instead he's pouring themed shots into glasses and sliding them across a sticky bar top to drunken college kids who only come here for the cheap liquor and even worse music. The music is easy enough to dance to and Peters grown used to how the beat vibrates through his whole body for most of the night but even sometimes, especially on crowded nights like this he finds himself having to take breaks to regain feelings in his hands or to clear a headache forming.
He's just coming inside from one of his breaks when his eyes catch the dance floor. The people on the dance floor might consider whatever it is they're doing dancing but Peter thinks it's looks vaguely more like grinding on each other to a beat no one can really understand. He's certain it beats being stuck behind the bar though. Anything beats being stuck behind the bar. Well - not anything. There's still Mac back there with him who makes this whole place tolerable. He's sure he would've quit a hundred times over the last four years if she didn't keep dragging him back here.
For just a second he watches her as she moves around the bar, floating effortlessly between the bar, the back wall of liquor bottles, and the bar back who's stepped into help during a busy moment. Her black hair is thrown back into a pony tail for today and she has spiderwebs painted onto her cheeks. When he walked in early in the afternoon he had immediately noticed the Spider-Man t-shirt she was wearing, a mess of blue and red wrapped way to rightly around her torso for it to be appropriate for work but given what they do it fits the place perfectly so he hadn't commented on it. There's a second where he knows he's stood here to long because she whistles at him and cocks her head towards the far end of the bar where people are beginning to crowd. They had just called for last call and everyone is flooding to the bar for a final round.
Peter rushes over, patting the bar back on his shoulder as he joins them and begins flinging a mix of colored liquor and mixers into glasses and shakers. His hands are sticky but the patrons are happy as they take their last rounds back to whatever corners they've claimed for their groups tonight. He's relieved to see the bar emptying out slowly and takes a rather dramatic sigh of relief, rubbing his hands across his face in between making two final orders. Peter's in the middle of pouring a final Web Slinger when he feels the familiar pull from reality - shift in his focus that consumes him.
His hand is mid pour - hovering over the edge of a plastic cup stamped with the club's logo in the center.
Peter catches the end of a conversation, words muffled but still understandable enough to make what they could be.
"I'm telling you, it's happening." Peter's eyes flick to the edge of the bar where two guys are standing beside the water pitcher. Both are dressed normal but missing any Spider-Man themed merchandise. Normally it wouldn't stand out but today it's like a light shining on just them. "-they're organizing and trying to make actual change."
"My roommate was telling me about it. He's been going on for days about the incident at the courthouse last month."
The courthouse. Peter flinches. Liquid sloshes over the side of the cup and down his hand but he doesn't move. He can't even if he wanted to. He's frozen there.
Last month Peter the unfortunate pleasure of being by the courthouse when Schocker was brought to court after his latest robbery. People weren't paying attention and Peter is sure someone was paid off to leave his suit in a place easy enough for him to get to it. Two dies last time Peter had the chance to check and more are still recovering in the hospital. He tried to stop him. Even Daredevil stepped in but things were escalating to quickly. He lost control after a bad hit. He shudders at the memory.
"Yeah I saw that! He could've killed all this people!"
"It's called-" the man snaps his fingers and Peter can't help but flinch as the sound echoes in his ears. "The Watchman-"
"Petie!" Mac's voice cuts through the static in his head and he's pulled back into the present moment, a heavy feeling tugging right at the edge of his consciousness. "The drink Petie!"
Mac rips the bottle away from him and shoves him back with her hip so that he's pressed between her and the back of the bar. His eyes follow her hands as she finishes the drink, cleaning up the spilled blue mixer with the rag she keeps looped through one of the overly large holes in her belt. When she's done she turns around and crosses her arms across her chest.
"Are you trying to make inventory suck tomorrow night?" She asks, annoyance just at the edge of her tone.
"I'm fine," he answers back, annoyance more present in his tone than he would like for it to be but he doesn't apologize or try again even when Mac levels him with one of her signature looks. The 'I know you're lying but I can't quite figure out about what or why' looks. He's a little too familiar with that one. It makes his skin itch and his spidey-sense tingle. Realistically he knows there's no way she knows he's Spider-Man but sometimes he just gets the feeling she knows more about him than he's aware of. "Don't."
Mac takes a deep breath in through her nose and exhales a second later while raising her germs above her head and then dropping them back to her side. "Okay. Me. You. Tuesday night at my house. We're doing a wine and whine night where we can bitch about all of our problems. I used to do them with the old bartender all the time except she would do crack and I'd get drunk on wine coolers. It's a lot of fun," Mac explains.
Peter can't help it if he's looking at her like a fish feeding underwater with how his mouth is hanging open. He feels pain vibrate through his jaw momentarily when he snaps his mouth closed. "I can't. I have plans with my friend."
Again, he's given the look. This time with an eyebrow raised high enough he's forced to wonder how it hasn't flown off her forehead. "Really? And who is this friend? I've never heard of them before. Maybe I could join you two. Make it a threesome."
He wrinkles his nose and crosses his arms across his chest. "No. It's a private kind of thing. We go boxing. It's just me, him, and our already annoying third wheel. Don't need anymore peanuts in the peanut gallery." Already he can hear Wade's over exaggerated gasp at his remark in his head.
"Boxing?" Max asks incredulously. "You box?"
From behind her he sees patrons pushing each other towards the exits. Lights flicker one by one until the almost pitch black club is illuminated with a pale yellow glow. It makes the mess on the bar from Peter's drink mishap even more obvious and there's a small twinge of guilt in his stomach because he knows the manager is going to ask where all the product went and again he'll be left with a lecture about responsible use and conserving what they have. Even if what they have expires in a week and there's a plan to use it again in a month.
"Yeah. It's a good way to let off steam after a long week and it's fun to see Matt slip back into-" Peter stops himself, the words smacking against the back of teeth with his tongue. "I mean it's fun to watch Matt let go every now and then. He doesn't normally let himself have fun."
"You guys sound close. Why have I never heard of him before today?" She cocks her head to the side and levels a look at him that makes him squirm.
He hates lying and leaving out things, especially things that feel so important to him but he's seen first hand what happens when to many people know to much. It tears everything apart.
Peter clears his throat. "We aren't that close. Barely know each other really," he explains. And while that's not the whole truth it's not a complete lie so he tries to tell himself it's okay. He really doesn't know much about Matt outside of him being a lawyer and Daredevil. They keep everything on a need to know basis and so far no one has needed to know anything.
Mac eyes him for a few seconds before giving in to Peter's weird avoidance tactic. It's a usual thing for him. Every time she digs deeper he pushes further away. Honestly she knows she should be used to getting nothing out of him but still she wants to know more. There's something about Peter she can't put her finger on no matter how hard she looks.
"Whatever. That's another person I can add into my manuscript. Guess my mysterious main character can have mysterious friends. It fits," Mac laughs. Now it's Peter's time to cock an eyebrow at her. "I've designed my main character after you in my latest project. He's this tall, dark bad boy with a past but no one knows what it is."
"Seriously?" Mac nods her head, dead serious is Peter had assume. That's who Mac is. Honest to a fault even when you really don't want her to be. He shakes his head with a soft chuckle. "Okay. Let's finish up so I can head out. I have plans - and no I'm not telling you what they are before you even asks."
When they finally finish cleaning up the bar it's nearly four in the morning and Peter is dragging himself to the exit, all his muscles screaming from overuse and exhaustion. He wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep until his alarm for work goes off again. The thought of if spiders hibernate briefly crosses his mind and he has to force himself not laugh out loud at the thought.
"See you tomorrow Petie!" Mac calls, giving him a two finger salute as she turns and starts walking in the direction of her train.
"Stop calling me that!" He shouts back. He can hear her laugh echo in the quiet and he finds himself smiling.
He takes off in the opposite direction towards the far side of the city where his apartment sits. Calling it home would be a stretch given he's barely there for more than the necessary few hours he has to be there to sleep or change. Besides that it has no cooling and barely any heating in the winter months when the draft in the apartment becomes increasingly more obvious. The thought of going back makes him shudder but he pushes forward nonetheless.
Sure he could've asked Mac is he could spend the night on her couch. Told her how horrible his apartment is and how even though he's saving money to move it never seems like enough. She would've said yes without a second thought because that's just who she is. He knows she would've asked questions though. Ones he wouldn't be able to answer or ones that would make him have to lie because telling her any version of the truth is too much. To much of a risk that's he's not ready to take again.
Sleep tugs at every corner of his being. Its heavy and insistent hand pushes him towards his bed and he gladly listens.
By the time he reaches his building and pushes through the door he doesn't even pause, just takes the steps two at a time until he's on the twelfth floor landing. He's panting by the time he makes it to his door, sweat slicking his brow and his muscles pulsing a little more than they had been before. He rest for a second agains the banister, hands folded over it as he looks down the stairs at the small makeshift lobby at the bottom.
The idea of going on patrol crosses his mind for a brief second before he banishes it because while he may want to he's not has to anyone like this. He wouldn't be a very good vigilante if he ended up splattered across a sidewalk in the middle of Queens.
Peter stands up and straightens his shoulder as much he's able to and turns to unlock his door just as he heads his neighbors door opens. Peter can't help it. He freezes. Freezes right there in the hallway like he's not meant to be there on this floor or in this building. The same one he's laying to much rent for given the state it's in.
He turns slightly to see his neighbor slipping out of the other apartment he shares the floor with. The small spaces floods with a scent that makes his breath catch and his normally calm heart begin to race.
Peter knows he should go inside. He should put all of this out of head and get the sleep his body so desperately is craving. He doesn't though. He can't. He stays frozen there, key hovering in the front of bis lock.
"Hey," he says, trying his best to keep his voice steady.