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“Peter?”
The man’s grin widened, and Ned watched his eyes practically light up as if he’d just found a missing puzzle piece. Which was weird, because Ned was pretty sure he was the puzzle currently missing several pieces.
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Here’s the thing, okay? Ned was having a pretty mediocre day.
Actually, no. Scratch that.
He was having a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.
First, he got rejected from the third job he’d applied for, which is... understandable, actually. He didn’t really want to sell his soul to those evil corporations anyway (he thinks with tears rolling down his eyes as he stares at his rejection email).
Then, because apparently his life had recently turned into a reenactment of Murphy’s Law, he went to his go-to bodega for his trusted, favourite, beloved and absolutely necessary Sharkfire energy drink only to find that — and get a load of this — they hadn’t restocked.
They. Hadn’t. Restocked.
And yes, sure, whatever. He’s addicted to the drink, and it’s bad for his health, so maybe this particular turn of events was understandable too. Mayhaps the universe was doing him a favour, even.
A very cruel, very unnecessary favour.
He had been seconds away from screaming in agony when Anne had told him they were out of Sharkfire, but that was simply a testament to his incredible restraint and his absolute lack of codependency on that beverage sHUT THE FU—
Anyway. A-hem. Anyway, point is, he was having a below-mediocre day as he ate his sad sandwich at the Sharkfire-void bodega and felt a pang in his heart as he took a sip of his orange shake, which was, tragically, not Sharkfire.
“Hey.”
Someone whispered in front of him, rudely interrupting Ned’s carefully scheduled moment of staring at his phone and pretending his life wasn’t falling apart.
He tore his gaze away from the comforting glow of the screen and looked up at the intruder.
The guy looked vaguely familiar, which was weird, because Ned was fairly certain he had never seen him before.
“Hi,” Ned said in return to keep up with societal pretences. He took off his earphones as he stared at the man expectantly.
The stranger had wavy brown hair and was wearing a hoodie underneath a jacket, and upon further inspection, Ned noticed a small cut on his eyebrow, covered by two neat white strips of medical tape.
He looked around Ned’s age.
Ned narrowed his eyes, mentally scrolling through every person he’d ever shared a classroom with.
Was he from one of his uni classes? Um, no.
Maybe high school?
Also no.
Ned was usually pretty good at remembering faces, as far as he’s concerned. That might not sound like much of an assurance, because it mostly isn’t.
His eyes dropped to the bouquet in the guy’s hand.
Oh.
Oh. Wait.
Flowers.
Oh, yes! Ned knows this guy — the guy who brought flowers to his and MJ’s housewarming as a gift! What was his name again?
Ahhhhhhh Nerd? Something-Nerd. Should probably not call this guy a nerd.
“You are the flower guy!” Ned settles for that instead. “You were at the party!”
Something-Nerd. Bray-Nerd? Braynerd? Is that a name? It sounds like a name. Ned would probably have to Google it to be sure.
“Yeah.” The guy grins wide. “I’m Peter.”
The guy — Peter — extends his hand for a handshake. Ned extends his own out of pure instinct. He’s suddenly reminded of the sandwich grease in his hand, but that’s all forgotten when the handshake shifts to a bruh-shake, which is weird for two strangers who’ve just met to do, but okay.
Actually, no. Not okay. The bruhshake then shifts to the divide, followed by the eagle, and then the pound bow, and the backhand and then a slap and fisticuffs, and finally, the fingerguns.
Ned stared at their pointing fingers pointing at each other, and then at the space between their pointing fingers pointing at each other.
He had just performed a super complicated handshake with a person he had no prior handshaking experience with, and to top that, he had performed it perfectly.
‘Peter,’ Ned repeats the name in his head. Peter. P. E. T. E. R. Peeeeeter.
He could’ve sworn there was a ‘Nerd’ in his name somewhere. PeNerd— never mind.
Peter. Peter. Ned doesn’t know any Peters.
Wait, wait, wait — could this be?
“Peter,” MJ had said, looking at Spider-Man in the suit and everything, “be safe.”
Spider-Man, whose first name is Peter.
And this guy, whose first name is Peter.
Which means this guy —
No. Effing. Way. That’s just a ridiculous thought. Maybe all the Sharkfire consumption did fry his brain and made him devoid of critical thinking. Not every man named Peter is Spider-Man, for crying out loud!
Except that the guy in front of him did kinda lowkey look like he’d been in a fight, with the eyebrow cut, and the whole ‘recently fought something and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’ vibe, and wasn’t Spider-Man in the hospital recently because of a bullet wound?
So. Uh.
This was either the weirdest coincidence ever, or Ned Leeds was currently sitting across from Spider-Man.
Ned gasped anyway (probably a natural response to the sheer strangeness of this situation). “Peter?”
The man’s grin widened, and Ned watched his eyes practically light up as if he’d just found a missing puzzle piece. Which was weird, because Ned was pretty sure he was the puzzle currently missing several pieces.
“Hey, Ned.” The guy — Peter — Spider-Man(?) — said.
None of this answers why Ned knows a choreographed handshake with this man, btw. Why is no one addressing that? Someone should address that, actually.
“I know this is gonna sound super insensitive but, uh,” Ned stares at their pointy fingers still pointing at each other. “What the fuck?”
Peter blinked. “If I say, 'Alright, then, keep your secrets,’ would you understand the solid reference?”
“WHAT IN THE ACTUAL BLITHERING FU—”
Peter’s hand immediately covered his mouth, which Ned would have normally found offensive but bLOODY HELL THIS MAN IS SPIDER-MAN.
Spider-Man’s hand was currently on his face.
Spider-Man had just stopped him from screaming several extremely creative profanities in a bodega.
Spider-Man was Peter.
Peter was this guy.
This guy was Spider-Man.
Flower-guy is Spider-Man.
Friendly neighbour? More like friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man — ooooohhhhhh he’s losing it; it’s official. Ned’s losing it.
Ned Leeds was currently face-to-face with Spider-Man, and Spider-Man was touching him, and Ned was willing to die on this specific hill.
Peter’s face is full of concern. “Have you calmed down?”
Not in a million years, not even remotely.
Ned nodded anyway, prompting Peter to take his hand off slowly, almost as if he was genuinely worried that Ned was going to start screaming again. Which is fair.
He’s in front of a superhero, so it would be natural for him to scream. He doesn’t, though, but he wants it to be on record that he could.
“You are, like, so cool,” Ned says, his whole body turning into goo. “I thought you would be asian, though.”
Peter’s face did something between confusion and surprise before it melted into laughter, which he immediately tried—and failed—to cough back down. “I’m...sorry?”
“It’s alright,” Ned says, absolutely star-struck. He can’t even feel his fingers anymore. He can’t feel his face anymore. Speaking of face, he’s never washing his face. Spider-Man (!!!) touched his face.
Speaking of fingers... “Hey, what was the whole handshake montage about?”
Possibilities ran through his head like ducklings waddling into the pond of wisdom. Maybe Spider-Man can control brains like the evil villain of last week? But why would Spider-Man choose Ned as the co-conspirator of this handshake?
Unless, oh, unless Ned’s the chosen one, of course!
Or maybe this is just Spider-Man’s go-to move. Every time he meets people, people feel the need to engage in this prolonged handshake. But Spider-Man did not do this with Ned in the apartment.
“I want you to not freak out,” Peter tells the man who’s currently internally and externally freaking out.
Ned nods vigorously. “I will absolutely try not to not freak out.”
“Okayyyyyy...” Peter takes a breath in. “We used to be best friends in high school, but things happened, and there were magic spells involved, and people had to forget me.”
Ned stares.
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Ned passes out.
Peter should have seen that coming. Spidey-tingles and all that.