Chapter Text
Peter zipped up his hoodie and checked his appearance once again in the mirror before he left the bathroom, making sure to double check the time on his phone.
“You still heading out to see Ned?”
Glancing to the couch where Jean was sitting reading a book, he replied.
“Yeah, you want me to bring anything back?” he asked, pocketing his phone as she shook her head, not taking her eyes off the novel as she did.
“I think we’re good.”
“Ok, well I’ll see you when I get back, call me if you need anything.” Peter said, keeping his attention on Jean for a few seconds silently before turning and heading out.
He tried to keep his movements slow and natural, this was just a casual exit from his apartment, nothing else.
…at least that’s what he had to make it seem like to Jean.
He didn’t want to lie to her, he had to balance and juggle enough lies and secrets in his personal life and hero identity and he didn’t want to lie to Jean, especially since their relationship was built on trust and supporting one another.
But for the time being and especially in regards to who the lie centered around, he had to.
As he stepped out onto the street Peter went over everything again in his head, as well as the conversation he’d had with Yelena.
Walking down the sidewalk while mentally going over what she’d said, Peter paused as he saw a very familiar black van approach, pulling up alongside him and making him sigh as he turned to see Frank sitting in the driver's seat.
“Get in.”
No preamble, no ‘Hi how you doing?’, straight to the point.
Peter shook his head but didn’t argue, knowing the futility of it as he walked around the van, noting the lack of the Skull symbol on the top of the hood which seemed to be covered in a large black sticker.
As he climbed into the passenger seat, he pointed to the hood and was about to ask when Frank spoke up.
“I covered it for today.”
“Why?” Peter asked as Frank pulled out from the sidewalk.
“Discretion.” Frank replied simply, his eyes on the road as Peter gave him a look before glancing around the van’s still reinforced and armored interior.
And also trying not to think about the fact they were driving in a literal armory on wheels.
“...I appreciate the ride, really but again it wasn’t necessary, Frank. I could have made my own way there.” Peter said only for Frank to scoff.
“Yeah right, not happening. Especially knowing who we’re seeing.”
“Who I’m seeing, it was supposed to just be me.” Peter argued back only for Frank to wave him off with one hand as they slowed upon reaching a set of lights.
“Want some coffee?” Frank offered, gesturing to a thermos that sat between them, only for Peter to wrinkle his nose slightly.
“Ah, no...no thank you.” Peter said, though his reaction was tinged with nostalgia. “I still don’t drink Black Coffee.”
Two important people in his life had drank their coffee black.
Well three if he counted Frank.
And he did.
Peter had fond memories of them, but still couldn’t bring himself to enjoy or stomach black coffee.
Maybe even more so than before.
Instead of the usual derisive response, Frank reached over and opened the glove compartment giving Peter a look of the inside and to no surprise the fact there were more weapons inside.
But also a small shelf stable miniature bottle of whole milk which he pulled out, shutting the glove compartment before tossing it to Peter.
“There, don’t say I’m not accommodating.” Frank said, not taking his eyes off the road as they resumed driving upon getting the green light.
“...even for bad taste.” he added as Peter couldn’t suppress the grin that worked its way onto his face.
It took them over two hours to finally arrive, closer to three due to traffic and some delays on the way, but they were finally here.
And Peter felt more than a few knots in his stomach as he stepped out of the van and into the property, exhaling as he slipped his mask on. He’d had his suit underneath his clothes, having changed in the back of the van after they’d gotten far enough upstate and into the woods.
The closing of the driver's side door was heard before Frank walked around the hood, Peter couldn’t help but groan at the sight of the various weapons he had on him.
…and that was still considered ‘light’ for him.
“Seriously…We’re here to talk!” Peter complained, causing Frank to let out a grunt.
“I’m sure we will.” Frank said, checking his spare magazines. “But till I know for a fact we’re just gonna sit around singing koombaya and toasting marshmallows, I ain't letting my guard down.”
Peter was about to voice the fact Frank still wouldn’t let his guard down regardless, but it seemed moot at this point.
“Can you at least leave one weapon behind, just one.” Peter implored as he gestured to Frank.
Frank rolled his eyes before reaching down behind his back and pulling out a set of brass knuckles, slapping them down on the hood.
“There, happy?” he said before motioning ahead.
Peter knew arguing was going to do little else, so he just took a breath and turned as they began walking down the dirt path.
They hadn’t parked right at the outskirts of the property, but hadn’t pulled right up out the front either. They were expected, well Peter was expected, he’d had to text ahead to inform their host that Frank was coming along.
Peter’s hands were fidgeting at his side, he tried to hide it, but Frank had picked up on it during their drive, they’d talked briefly about it and Frank understood why Peter was feeling this way. Peter could see him glancing ever so often as they walked, a few minutes was all it took for them to reach their destination.
The Stark’s Lakehouse.
Well, if you wanted to get technical or accurate, Peter knew the ‘official’ name was the Stark Eco Compound, or at least that’s what Mr. Stark had named it.
“If you want to go back, we can.”
Looking to his side, he saw Frank was now looking at him fully, hands resting on his belt as he glanced at the cabin before turning back to Peter.
“If you’re not up for it, we can go.” Frank said before nodding in Peter’s direction.
“But let me tell you somethin’, the longer you keep putting it off, the harder it’s gonna be. This place is always gonna have ghosts, memories, good and bad, you gotta make the decision whether you’re going in there and facing them or not, it’s your choice.”
Peter was silent, letting Frank’s words sink in, knowing he was right. It was hard, the whole idea of coming here was difficult, but now that they stood in the front of the lakeside home, physically being here it was harder.
Almost like he was standing in front of a forcefield which sapped all momentum out of him.
But he was here for a reason.
He’d been repeating that in his head over the course of their drive upstate and did so again as he forced himself forward, walking up till he was on the porch, Frank was right behind him, Peter saw his hands gripping his semi-automatic rifle as his eyes were laser focussed on the door.
Raising his hand slowly, he pressed the doorbell and heard the chime ring out.
Peter had wondered before why Mr. Stark had put in a doorbell at all, surely surveillance and automated functions could be in place.
Maybe Ms. Potts insisted.
Before he could fall further back into his thoughts, the door suddenly opened, slowly but not at a snail's pace.
Peter’s eyes under his mask were instantly met with their host, the sole occupant of the home and the person they’d come to see.
Standing there before them was an older woman, she was shorter than Peter with dark silver streaked hair and olive skin.
Her brown eyes shifted from Peter to Frank behind him, not reacting with alarm but a sort of knowing resignation as she nodded to them both.
“Good afternoon.” she said before opening the door fully.
Peter couldn’t help but raise a hand in a half wave.
“Good afternoon, Doctor Banner.”