Chapter Text
2:55am Saturday Night.
The weekend night shifts are fucking terrible.
Only five more minutes left until closing.
The dining room is bursting at the seams with drunk Empire State University students.
The later it gets the more slurred each order for an extra large cheese pizza becomes. Good thing the night shift pays time and a half.
And then, as if on cue, there he is again.
The bell on the door chimes as he walks in.
Jeans dirted and cuffed at the bottom. A goofy pair of socks flash with each step. His shirt haphazardly tucked in. Hair a brown curly mess.
He’s a damn near regular.
Always coming in to order right at the buzzer.
He’s one of a handful that will come in at this hour sober.
And god knows why.
The other sober late night regulars were usually cops or the occasional superhero like Daredevil, Spider-Man or Squirrel Girl.
As he approaches, you gasp noticing the cuts on his face.
“Large Pepperoni pizza please, miss,” he says staring down at his wallet.
He almost never makes eye contact.
“6.50” you say.
He hands you a ten. His knuckles bruised.
As you gather his change you ask, “Rough night?”
He seems a bit startled by your inquiry, “Uh- no! Uh- you know- just uh- tripped!- it’s nothing- REALLY!” He sounds like he’s trying to sound casual.
“Tripped?” you ask with suspicion, “That must’ve been one heck of a fall… You look like you went through a garbage disposal!”
“Oh- uh- you know- the FIRE ESCAPE- yeah, yeah, yeah, I tripped and fell down my fire escape- Yep!”
“The fire escape,” you repeat.
“Yeah! Nasty metal stairs. Rolled down a couple flights...” his eyes flicker to yours and then quickly away. Something still seems suspicious about the whole thing. Maybe he was in some kind of trouble or something.
He holds out his hand for the change and your hands brush as you give it to him.
“Well… okay then…” you say awkwardly, “Your number will be 65. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
He turns around and steps away from the counter. You catch him mumbling to himself, “...-fucking fire escape? …. Damn it, Parker-... so stupid… -shoulda said kickboxing-...”
You chuckle to yourself. Out of all the strange characters that frequent the Sorrento’s Pizza shop, he was one of your favorites.
If you were being honest with yourself, he wasn’t too terrible on the eyes. You know- for a big dork at least.
He was young. A slim and muscular build. He always came in a little chewed up at night. But the handful of times you’ve seen him come in for lunch- he cleans up nice.
He’s almost always alone.
Every once in a blue moon he’ll bring in a strikingly handsome friend. One that you recognize to be heir of Oscorp, Harry Osborn. The two seemed an unlikely pair. Harry oozed with charisma and charm… and well- ‘the regular’ appeared to fall down a lot of fire escapes.
The dining area emptied out.
You wiped down the tables waiting for the last order to be filled.
Any second now you’d be free! Free to go home! Free to crash face first on your tiny twin bed and still reeking of pizza. A shower is tomorrow morning’s problem!
The regular sits in a booth, hands folded on the table staring off into space.
You walk back to the register and sprawl exhausted across the counter.
“I’m sorry…” you hear the regular say.
Is he talking to you?
You pick your head up and he continues, “I’m sorry I always come in so late… I feel bad that you have to stick around past your shift because of me…”
His voice is soft. He seems so genuinely sorry to inconvenience you.
“It’s fine…” you lie, politely. “It’s really not a big deal.”
But that’s not true. It definitely fucking is.
When it’s a superhero or nurse off a crappy E.R. shift it’s a little more understandable. But this guy? This guy just seems like some stereotypical business professional of some kind. What decent excuse does he have to consistently come in this late every time?
What is he Tyler Durden? Some insomniac running some underground fight club by night- working for an insurance company during the day. -WAIT- That does kind of match up doesn’t it? That’s why he comes in so beat up late at night!...
But wait-
That can’t be-
There’s just no fucking way-
Not this guy-
Nope! There’s just no way. Not with those big brown eyes and those damn science pun t-shirts. You’re pretty sure that even his darkest alter ego would say, “Please” and “Thank you”.
“Order 65!” you call as Big Sal hands you the pizza through the service window.
You turn around to see that the guy is already standing at the counter, ready to take his pizza and scurry away.
“Thank you, miss,” he says grabbing the box from your hands, “I’m sorry again for keeping you late…”
“Hey! Whatta bout me, Parker!?” Big Sal booms through the window.
The man’s eyes widen with surprise as he sees Big Sal leaning through the window, “Oh, I’m not sorry for keeping you late one bit, Sal!” he replies with a playful laugh. “Keeping you here is keeping you out of trouble!”
Big Sal responds with a loud, jovial laugh, “Now, getta outta here before you make me regret not spitting in your pizza!”
The regular, (presumably someone named “Parker”), walks to the door.
You gather your purse and start to punch out.
Suddenly, “Parker” stops short in his tracks. At the door and spins around.
“Uhhhh… You wouldn’t happen to be walking home right now, would you?” he asks you.
“Uh, yeah? … I certainly don’t plan on spending the night here?....” you say confused.
“But you’re uh- walking?- Not catching a cab or anything?” he asks.
It’s starting to sound a little creepy. Why is he asking all these questions about how you plan on getting home. You look to Sal for some kind of confirmation that this guy wasn’t about to kill you. Big Sal was of no use. He was at the other side of the kitchen washing the last of the dishes and singing loudly to the radio.
“Uhhhh- well yeah, I was going to walk. I don’t exactly have the money to be taking a cab from work every night…” you answer.
“It’s kind of dangerous to be walking these streets alone at night. Do you live far?” he asks.
“Like five or six blocks…” you say quietly. His intentions seem harmless. But you really never know in this city.
“I can walk you-”
“-No!” you cut in, “That’s alright!... I’m sure the heroes are out- I’ll be fine!”
“No, no, no!” he bursts out.
“What?”
“Uh- NOTHING! Just- you know- heroes go to bed too… You can’t always count on them to save you- Just please. Please let me get you a cab…”
He set the pizza down on a table and starts taking out his wallet to fish for change.
“I really don’t want to take your money…” you say under your breath.
“Then I’ll walk you home!” he insists.
You take an uneasy breath. If you tell a potential serial killer that you’re worried that they’re a serial killer- will that make them more likely to kill you?
He picks up on your uneasiness and says, “I promise you! I’m not a creepy stalker or anything…. Uh look!” he says as he rummages through his wallet. It’s an ID card and he walks it over to you.
It’s for the Daily Bugle. He’s a freelance photographer. His name is Peter Parker.
For a dorkishly handsome man, his ID photo was quite terrible. He looks like he’s in mid-sneeze or something.
You smile inadvertently, trying to mask a laugh.
He quickly takes the ID from your hand as he says, “Wait! Don’t look at the picture! It’s really bad! … I was sick that day!”
You laugh and catch a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.
He tries to quickly recover by saying, “But see! I work for the Daily Bugle! I’m not just some random creep!”
“I don’t know…” you say a bit cheekily, “I can’t think of a better occupation for a stalker than to be a ‘freelance photographer’...”
“Oh…” his eyes fall to the ground and his face is somber. You feel a tightness in your chest. He looks so genuinely dejected, that you start to feel bad for making the quip. Maybe he was nice guy just trying to be chivalrous…
“Wait! Big Sal!” he hollers back into the kitchen.
Big Sal lumbers over to the service window.
“Can you vouch for me that I’m not a creeper?” Peter asks.
Without missing a beat Sal looks to you and responds, “He’s the biggest creep I’ve EVER MET!”
“Come on, Sal!” Peter whines, “I’m just trying to make sure your best employee gets home safe!”
“Best employee?” Sal grunts with a laugh, “So you’re walking me home? No thanks, pip squeak! I think I can take care of myself! Plus, I won’t be done for another half hour!”
Peter throws his hands up in the air, defeated.
Big Sal sighs and looks to you with an honest look in his eye, “This kid’s pretty harmless. He’s got some fancy science degree or some shit… Don’t know how he expects to protect you, but I guess his body would make a good shield…” he smiles.
“Oh jeez- thanks Sal...” Peter says sarcastically.
Sal winks at Peter but then wags a meaty finger at him, “But no funny business- alright Parker? No, inviting yourself inside. No coming back to her address later- you hear me?”
“I hear you!” Peter says raising his hands innocently.
“I’d hate to have you killed,” Sal responds.
“And I’d hate to be killed!” Peter says, his voice hitching on a higher than anticipated note.
You let out a heavy sigh and turn to Peter, “Okay, fine. You can walk me home.”
Peter picks up his pizza and holds the door open for you.
“Which way?” he asks.
You point to the right.
He mumbles under his breath, “... I was afraid you’d say that…”
“What?”
“It’s nothing! You lead the way!”
You walk for a block or two and Peter keeps a few paces behind you. You’re about to pass an alley when you hear him freeze. You spin around to see why he’s stopped and he seems to almost be listening to the night air. But that’s not quite right. There’s something more to it. It’s almost like he’s listening to his surroundings with his whole body, as if he was witnessing some kind of premonition.
You give him a confused look.
He catches up to you and puts a protective hand on your shoulder, “Let’s cross the street here, for a second…”
You’re confused as hell but he sounds so sure and certain that you decide to just take his word for it.
You look both ways and scuttle across the street. You glance to the alleyway on the opposite side of the street. There is circle of men hanging out by the dumpsters. They look completely hammered.
One whistles at you. The others start to holler, “Why dontcha come o’er here, little girl?!” and other predatory taunts.
Peter blocks their view of you and hurries you along.
The men don’t bother to follow and their hoots quiet down as you escape from their sight.
Peter releases your shoulder once your sufficiently out of range and you ask curiously, “Did you know that was going to happen?”
“No,” he responds calmly, “It was uh- just a guess- I used to walk these streets a lot when I went to ESU.”
“Oh…” you say, but it still doesn’t really make any sense. You walk these streets all the time, you just graduated from ESU and still lived near campus. That alleyway was usually pretty quiet. How could he have guessed that?
You walk another block and you hear his stomach audibly growl.
He puts a hand on his stomach and says, “Oh! Excuse me!”
You laugh, “Pretty hungry, huh?”
“I’m starving!” he exclaims. “I’m so excited to eat this pizza!”
“Sounds like you might even finish the large by yourself tonight,” you joke.
He gives you a suddenly guilty look, “... I always finish the large by myself… is that bad?”
“In one sitting?!”
“...Yeah…”
“Holy shit!” you exclaim, “What are you like a superhero but your power is a really fast metabolism?”
He laughs awkwardly, “I just uh- uh- work out a lot…”
“And fall down fire escapes…” you say pointedly.
He tenses up and his voice pitches higher, “Yeah- that too!”
You walk another block.
“So what brings you into Sorrento’s so late? You’re not a drunk college student, or a cop, or a nurse or a hero- is it the freelance photography that’s keeping you out so late?” you ask.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa- not a hero?... ouch! I thought I was doing a pretty good job of getting you home safely so far…” he smiles.
You roll your eyes and scoff, “You know what I mean! You’re not Daredevil or Deadpool-”
“-Is Deadpool really a hero though?” he says cutting you off.
“Of course!” you insist, “He hardly comes in these days- but he’s ALWAYS a great tipper! … He has such a great sense of humor too…” you say and your voice drifts into a dreamy tone.
“Hey!” Peter shouts as if he was personally offended, “Spider-Man tips well too!”
“That’s true...” you concede, “But how would you know that?”
“Oh! Well, uh- he’s a pal of mine! He lets me take photos of him for the paper… And you know- sometimes we catch up. You know- I’m the one that introduced him to Sorrento’s.”
“Oh really?” you say. A heat rises in your chest. You kind of had a thing for New York superheros.
“Yeah!”
“I haven’t seen him around in a while… Maybe you could bring him by sometime soon.”
“Oh- well- uh- I don’t know about that. Pizza is kind of a solitary activity for me…”
You laugh, “I think that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard! … And it’s also not true! I’ve seen you bring in Harry Osborn more than once!”
“Oh, well- you see with Harry- it’s just- it’s just different!” he says a bit flustered, “But you know what? The next time I see Spider-Man I’ll tell him to swing on by… I’ll tell him that his favorite Sorrento’s employee misses him.”
“I’m his favorite?!” you ask trying to hide your excitement.
Something of pride seems to swell in Peter’s chest, “Yeah, I’ve heard him mention you once or twice…”
“Do you think he’d let me interview him sometime?” you ask.
“What?” Peter seems to be caught of guard.
“Interview him! Ever since I graduated I’ve been trying to get a staff position for a newspaper… it’s just super hard because they aren’t hiring a lot of new people and I can’t code to save my life- So I need some kind of edge! Having an ‘in’ with a superhero and selling an exclusive interview could be my ticket to earning a staff position!”
“Oh…” Peter says deflating a little, “Well, uh- I don’t know how he feels about interviews… but I’ll certainly ask him…”
You finally stop at the steps to your apartment building.
“Please, convince him! Please!” you plead, gripping Peter’s bicep. He flexes and he tries to suppress a giddy smile from consuming his face. You continue, “Please! I really don’t want to work at Sorrento’s for the rest of my life. I want to be able to afford to keep living in this city. Being a journalist is my dream job! I just- I just need something to get my foot in the door. Come on- I’m sure you understand! I bet that’s why you’re only freelance at the Bugle!”
You let go of his arm and he responds, “Well- uh- actually, I work for Stark Industries in a lab- it pays for housing but not much else. The Daily Bugle gig is mostly a side job. I’m trying to save up some money…”
“What?!” you exclaim, “I’d kill to have a regular freelance relationship with the Daily Bugle! You are so lucky! … You better put in a good word for me over there, by the way!”
“I will! I will! I promise!” he says with a laugh.
There is an awkward silence for a moment.
You’ve never really interacted much with this Peter guy- but there was an immediate connection. It’s as if you were best friends in another life and were finally reunited in this one. Your journalistic instincts were tingling, this man had some stories to tell.
Even though you were tired as hell- this opportunity might not come around again. A friendship with him could be a good networking connection with the Daily Bugle.
“Would you like to come upstairs?” you ask.
“What?!” his eyes widen.
“It’s late. I feel bad about dragging you over here. At least stay until your finished eating your pizza…”
“But I don’t want to die!” he says quickly, “Big Sal will carve me ali-”
“Big Sal doesn’t have to find out!” you laugh.
“...doesn’t have to find out…” he gulps and he tries to hide the redness in his cheeks by looking down at the cracked sidewalk.
Oh, wait. Maybe he took that the wrong way.
“I mean, I think we could make good friends, don’t you think?”
“Oh- friends… right! Yeah! Definitely…” he says trying to act casual.
You start walking up the stairs to the front door, “Come on, Parker…”