Chapter Text
“Couldn’t you just carry this by yourself?” Ned asks, peering around the mattress to quirk a brow at him. He’s struggling with the awkward weight of the mattress.
Peter is not. “Yeah, but I’m already the weird guy in the apartment.”
“Might be worth it,” Ned mutters as they go up yet another flight of stairs. “What floor are you on again?”
“The tenth.”
“Oh my god, dude, you are so lucky I like you,” Ned says with exaggerated exasperation.
“Wow, it’s almost like you two never stopped talking. I distinctly remember hearing this exact fight at Happy’s place,” Michelle says, her voice echoing in the building’s stairwell.
“Happy’s place had an elevator,” Ned mutters.
In some ways, it feels like old times. In a lot of ways, it isn’t, but Peter isn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing. It’s strange to get text messages again. Stranger still to be in a group chat again, with the ability to call his friends to help him toss out his old mattress and bring in a new one on a dreary, summer morning. Ned and Michelle are new graduates from MIT, Peter’s on his fourth job of the year, and the three of them have been talking steadily since Ned and Michelle’s winter break. Peter still isn’t sure what caused the spell to fail. He hasn’t yet gathered the courage to ask Ned what prompted him to track down Peter’s new phone number and blow up his phone with calls and text messages on the fourth anniversary of May’s death. For now, he’s accepted it, but questions remain.
“Isn’t it illegal to not have an elevator?” Ned asks as they finally reach the tenth floor and begin the long walk to Peter’s door.
“Probably,” Michelle says, walking beside them. She helped haul Peter’s old mattress down and now holds his apartment keys in her hand. She jogs ahead of them to unlock the door and open it for them. “But old places like this can get grandfathered in.”
“Mind the floor,” Peter tells Ned as they step inside his apartment. “Just kick whatever’s in the way. I, uh, didn’t have time to clean.”
“I can see that,” Michelle says. She hesitates outside his door for a moment, then ducks inside and clears a path for them. Peter desperately tries to remember if he left his boxers on the floor. Maybe he should’ve cleaned up before calling them over.
“There,” Ned says with a sigh, leaning back with a happy grin.
“Thanks, dude,” Peter says, leaning in to hug him briefly and start their overly complicated handshake. Ned hesitates for a moment, but then his eyes light up; Peter can practically see the memories fall into place as he meets Peter halfway.
“So this is your place,” Michelle says when Peter and Ned finish their handshake. “It’s cozy.”
Peter looks up. And pauses. His apartment is, for lack of a better word, kind of a dumpster fire. The kitchen sink constantly drips. The lights flicker and buzz in the ceiling. His clothes are everywhere --on his dining chair, his floor, spread across his dining table and sewing machine. A massive trauma kit sits open on a counter in the kitchenette, and bloody bandages peek out of an overflowing trash can. Empty ramen containers dot most of the flat spaces in his apartment. In short, it looks like a bachelor pad, and a pathetic one at that.
“It’s not normally this bad,” Peter says.
The moment he says that, a train passes by his apartment, rattling the whole building from the foundation up.
“Wow,” Michelle replies.
“Wow?”
“You still really suck at lying,” Michelle says. She checks her phone. “You’ve still got time for lunch before work, right?”
Peter checks his phone. Eleven in the morning . “Yeah, I totally have time.”
He doesn’t really have time, but he makes it. He has to make it.
He’s missed them. He’s going to make time for them.
“Sweet,” Ned says, clapping Peter’s shoulder. “Michelle found this awesome place last night before you called--”
He finds out he has bad habits.
That’s a weird thing to realize about yourself, but it’s true. He’s aloof. Distant. Used to being alone in a way that doesn’t exactly speak well of him. He’s not even aware of his bad habits until he crawls into his apartment (newly cleaned), and drops to the floor. He’s sore and tired, and a little bit crispy from yet another fiery car wreck. He smells like smoke and the city, so he staggers for the shower, plugging in his cell phone to charge while he’s gone. It died halfway through his patrol; the battery needs replacing, but he’s been too lazy to deal with it. It’s been a few days since he last saw Ned and Michelle; they’re both busy at their jobs and with their families.
He shuffles out of the shower, toweling his hair dry, and checks on his phone. The battery has taken a charge and shows a text alert. For a moment, he’s confused. He’s actually been on time with all of his bill payments for once, and that's typically the only time he gets a text message. He swipes the screen, and taps the alert.
It isn’t a bill. It's Ned.
" Hey, man, it's been a few days. Are you okay?"
And it has been a few days. The realization rocks him, throwing off his mental balance unexpectedly. Back in high school, Peter and Ned would chat back and forth constantly, even while Peter was on patrol. During those days when it was busy, Peter still managed to text Ned and give him the highlights. It seemed like there wasn't enough time in the day to tell him everything, even though they spent most of their days together. Now Peter struggles to even remember to text once every few days.
He considers that, by turns surprised and weirdly heartbroken by the realization when another alert lights up his phone. This one is from Felicia.
"Got intel, meet up at the usual spot in thirty minutes."
Peter is in the middle of a response when a new message pops in.
" Unless you're busy with with MJ ;)"
He scoffs, rapidly tapping a response as he pulls on his suit again.
" On my way. Behave."
Felicia’s response is, of course, immediate: "Never in my life. See you soon <3"
Peter is halfway through the window when he remembers he hasn't responded to Ned yet. He dips back inside the apartment to send him a message.
" All good, just busy. Talk soon!"
He finds Felicia in the usual place: the roof of a museum she had once robbed blind. Peter had stopped one of her heists here not long after Dr. Strange’s memory spell, triggering an almost literal game of cat and mouse between the two of them that resulted in a brief, but vibrant relationship and a years long, deep friendship. She’s gone legit these days (or, at least, hasn’t been obvious about who and what she’s stealing from), and has become a steady companion. In many ways, she’s one of his few true friends.
Felicia is tucked in against the shadows of the roof, idly watching the street below. She doesn’t move or turn when he lands on the roof behind her. She’s holding a sandwich bag from Delmar’s in one hand.
“You must be bringing me bad news if you’re bringing me food,” Peter says, walking over to her.
She smirks, turning to face him, handing off the sandwich. “Not bad news. Just inconvenient news.”
Peter takes the bag and bounces up to the wall, bracing himself against it and pulling out the sandwich with a sigh. He rolls up the bottom half of his mask to eat. “Okay. Hit me.”
“So, two things: Roxxon is moving their fancy new batteries through midtown. All of them at once, in fact.”
Peter takes a bite of the sandwich, thinking. “The same batteries that leveled one of their labs last month?”
“The very same,” Felicia confirms, crossing her arms.
“That’s stupid.”
“It’s cheaper to move them during the day. Theoretically, at least.” Felicia shrugs. “Anyway, someone’s hired Rhino and Scorpion to steal some and demolish the rest.”
“This news isn’t inconvenient, Felicia,” Peter says. “It’s just bad.”
“Depends on how you look at it, I guess,” she replies. She tilts her head, watching him. “Why aren’t you eating your sandwich?”
Peter stops and looks at the sandwich in his hands, and shrugs, sheepishly. “I had a big lunch. Michelle visited me at work and brought me some food. She’s come by a few times this week, actually.”
Felicia stares at him for a moment, half in shock, before grinning. “Oh. I see.”
“See? See what?” he asks. He frowns. “Why are you using that tone?”
“No reason,” Felicia says lightly. She grins up at him, her eyes bright behind her mask. “It’s just interesting.”
Peter narrows his eyes at her, taking a bite out of his sandwich slowly. He chews, swallows, and says, “I don’t believe you.”
She smirks, letting the silence hang between them for a moment as she watches the streets below. Finally, she says, “So, when are you going to tell your girlfriend about me?”
Peter, in the middle of another bite of his sandwich, sputters and coughs. “Girlfriend? She’s not my girlfriend. And there’s nothing to tell.”
“Harsh, lover,” Felicia says. She looks at him over her shoulder, smirking. “And she might not be your girlfriend now , but I don’t see that lasting long. Women don’t go out of their way to bring food to just anyone , you know.”
Peter stares at the sandwich in his hands and then back at Felicia.
“Some exceptions exist,” Felicia admits, rolling her eyes. “Michelle is a special case and you know it.”
“We aren’t dating,” Peter says.
“Okay.”
“Seriously, we’re not.”
“I’m not arguing with you.”
“We’re just friends,” Peter insists.
“Of course,” Felicia says easily. “Friends commonly blush at the mere mention of each other.”
“I’m not--” He is. He can feel the heat in his cheeks. He huffs. “Okay, focus. When are Rhino and Scorpion going to make their move?”
“Still working on that, but sometime this week,” Felicia says. She pushes herself away from the wall and stretches, sauntering over to the edge of the roof. “I’ll see you around, spider. Have fun with your lunch dates.”
“They’re not dates!” Peter calls after her. Felicia lets out a small laugh and leaps off of the building and into the shadows below. Peter grumbles. “They’re definitely not dates.”
Except Peter’s job is out of Michelle’s way.
Except she texts him once a day to check in on him.
Except she--
Shit. They might be dating.
Peter wakes to the sound of hard rain against his window and a rattling clatter on his nightstand. The apartment is dim, and at the perfect temperature; if his phone wasn’t intent on vibrating itself off of the nightstand, he could sleep for another three hours easily. His patrol last night was a bit rougher than normal; a building collapsed during a massive fire downtown and his ribs and back are still sore from catching the ceiling and bracing it against himself.
The phone is still ringing. Peter keeps his face buried into his mostly flat pillow and flails around for the phone. After a few seconds, he slaps it, grabs it, and swipes to answer, pressing it against his ear.
“Hello?” His voice is rough with sleep and half muffled by a pillow.
“Dude, are you still asleep?” Ned asks, worried.
“Yeah, today’s my day off,” Peter says, rolling over and yawning. This mattress took him three months to save up for, but god, it’s worth it. He snuggles against it, happy and smug.
“I know,” Ned says patiently. “That’s why we were going to go see a movie together. Remember? But--”
Peter freezes. The movie. He can’t remember the name of the movie, but it’s one he and Ned were both excited to see last week. He forgot. Actually, he meant to put it in his phone, but since his phone is terrible---
Shit.
“Yeah! Yeah, I remember,” Peter says, scrambling out of bed. “What time is the movie?”
“Twenty minutes, but Peter--”
Double shit.
“Cool, I’ll meet you there!” Peter says, staring at his bare floor. Normally he keeps a clean pile of clothes near his bed, but he put all of them away and now he has no idea--
Ah. The closet. Right.
“Okay, cool,” Ned says, an odd tone to his voice. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“Sounds good! See you there!” Peter says, ending the call.
He quickly yanks on a pair of jeans before snatching up clean socks out of the laundry basket tucked inside his closet. He ends up with one white sock and one tan, but whatever, they’re clean. Probably. He pulls on a shirt and jacket, runs his hand through his hair to tame his bedhead, grabs his wallet and keys, and then he’s out of the door.
He jogs down the stairs of his apartment. Taxis drift by on the midmorning traffic, honking at each other and anything else that gets close. Over to his right is a subway entrance. Peter stops to weigh his options. If he takes a taxi, he could get there in time. That’s out of his budget at the moment, but the subway might get there in time. He could also run, if he needs, but with the rain and distance, that’s not going to end well.
He heads for the subway, jogging down the stairs two and three at a time. If he’s lucky, he might make it just before the previews start.
He isn’t lucky. The subway is delayed; water from the storm leaks into the tunnel and just shuts it down outright for twenty minutes. By the time it limps into the next station, Peter is already five minutes late. By the time he reaches the movie theater, soaked from the rain, he’s fifteen minutes late.
Ned is standing off to the side of the entrance, protected from the rain by an awning. He waves when Peter gets close, frowning worriedly.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off--” Peter starts. He realizes, with some horror, that he’s used this exact same phrase and same tone with his boss. The realization stops him dead in his tracks.
“It’s okay, man,” Ned says after a moment. “I just wish you would’ve called me. I thought you were hurt.”
“What?” Peter asks, thrown.
Ned shows Peter his phone. It’s a video of Peter swinging into a burning building. He actually swings through the flames shooting out of broken windows in the video. People start to stream out of the building, coughing and holding one another, while ominous creaking and cracking sounds echo from within. The building starts to collapse as Peter reaches the entrance. Peter catches the ceiling, holding up all five stories of the building with immense effort, allowing the last of the people to get out.
Peter frowns at the video for a moment, and then at Ned. “Uh, yeah, I’m a little sore--”
“A building fell on you,” Ned says.
“Ned, that’s like the fourth time that’s happened,” Peter replies.
“Wow, that is not helping,” Ned retorts. “Dude, you were hurt. Why didn’t you come find me? Why didn’t you call? ”
“What?”
“That was our thing,” Ned says. Peter can see the worry, the exasperation, and the frustration clearly now. “Even on your busy nights you’d call me if things got intense. Now I can’t even get a text from you. I have to go to the Daily Bugle to find out what you’re doing most nights.”
Peter sways in the rain, blindsided. He should have called--he
used
to call. He could blame his phone, but that’s not really a good excuse and Ned deserves better than the lame excuses he typically uses for work anyway.
“I’m sorry, Ned,” he says after a moment. “I guess--I’m just used to doing things on my own these days. That’s not really an excuse, but I didn’t mean to cut you off or anything like that. Honest.”
Ned frowns, pocketing his phone. He shifts a little on his feet, and then gives a little shrug. It’s so familiar that Peter has to pause when he sees it, momentarily thrown back to high school. “I get it. I just worry. I looked up what you’ve been up to since the spell and how hurt you got when the Sinister Six found you.”
Peter winces. “Yeah, maybe don’t look up that stuff.” He wasn’t exactly mentally well during that fight. “I’m sorry Ned, I’m just not used to having people in my corner again. It’s going to take time to get used to.”
Ned sighs. “Yeah. I guess that’s kind of weird since we’ve missed out on each other’s lives for a little bit.. But you do have me in your corner again. I might not be your guy in the chair anymore, but I’m still your friend. Right?”
The ‘ right? ’ sounds just a little unsure. Peter mentally kicks himself for making Ned doubt that he’s one of the most important people in his life, even if they haven’t talked as much as they used to. He sticks his hand out. “Always.”
Ned’s shoulders relax, and the two of them pull off their secret handshake. It’s a little stilted at first, but by the time they finish it, they’re perfectly in sync with one another. Ned smiles at Peter.
“So, the next movie is in twenty minutes,” he says. “If you’re still up for it?”
“Absolutely,” Peter replies earnestly. “You grab the tickets and I’ll pay for the drinks at that bar you and MJ mentioned last week. We need to catch up.”
“Deal. I feel like we’re going to have some pretty big debates over the lightsaber thing,” Ned says, grinning. He leads them over to the theater’s ticket machine, pulling out a credit card to pay for their tickets.
“I already have an opinion: it’s stupid,” Peter replies easily.
“Yeah, I bet you five bucks you’ll change your mind, dude. You always do,” Ned says.
“Bet.”
The movie is good; the company is better. By the time they reach the bar, Ned and Peter are in a heated debate over the movie. By the time they each get their second beer, the tenor of the conversation shifts: Ned begins to list all of the things he did at MIT, his classes, and his brief relationship with Betty. Peter adds his own: he glosses over how rough the first few months on his own were and focuses instead on his night classes, the various people he’s met in the numerous jobs he’s held, and his relationship with Felicia.
The conversation can’t possibly be considered cheerful , but it’s not as somber and heartbreaking as Peter feared it would be. Bittersweet, more than anything else. By the time they say their goodbyes, Peter feels a little more like he’s found his home again.