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"I’m just saying, the grading curve in applied physics is a scam, Pete. A complete and utter scam."
"Johnny, you didn't even show up for the midterm. You can't complain about the grading curve when your grade is a literal zero."
"I was busy!"
"You were playing video games with Ben. I saw your online status."
"Mental health day, bro. You should try it sometime instead of glaring at your food tray like it personally offended you."
Peter Parker let out a long, exhausted breath and stabbed a soggy tater tot with his plastic fork. Sitting in the middle of the ESU quad with Johnny Storm was always a gamble. Usually, it ended with Johnny causing a scene, hitting on a TA, or accidentally setting a textbook on fire. Today, it was just a relentless assault of annoying complaints while Peter tried to review his notes.
"Just eat your burger and let me study," Peter muttered, not looking up from his notebook.
"I can't. The vibes are off," Johnny said, taking a massive bite of a cheeseburger anyway. He chewed loudly, his eyes scanning the crowded quad. "Man, college is great. Look at all this potential. The youth. The future of America."
"You're 22."
"I have an old soul, Pete. Hey, speaking of the future of America..." Johnny stopped chewing and slowly lowered his burger back onto the paper wrapper. "Holy shit."
"I'm not doing this with you today, Johnny. I'm not looking."
"Bro. Seriously. Shut up and look toward the science building."
"No. Last time you did this, it was just a girl walking a ferret on a leash."
"That's not a ferret, Pete. The entire quad just stopped talking. Look."
Peter sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and finally looked up, turning his head toward the north end of the campus.
Johnny wasn't exaggerating. The usual dull roar of a hundred college students talking, studying, and arguing effectively dropped to a hushed, collective whisper. Every head in the immediate vicinity was twirling in the same direction.
A girl was walking down the main paved path of the campus.
She was wearing a pair of ripped denim jeans that hugged her legs like a second skin. A tight white crop top exposed a bit of her stomach, and a black leather jacket was casually draped over one shoulder. She had a pair of dark sunglasses pushed up into her messy, platinum white hair.
To anyone else, it was an ordinary outfit. Just a girl going to class. But the way she walked was lethal. It was the smooth, predatory walk of someone who knew exactly how dangerous she was, and exactly how many people were currently staring at her.
Peter's stomach performed a violent, panicked flip.
"Dude," Johnny whispered, leaning forward over the table. "She's going to cause a literal pile-up. Look at those frat guys. They're not even blinking."
"Oh my god," Peter choked out, shrinking down in his seat.
"Wait a minute." Johnny squinted against the midday sun, tilting his head. "Is that... no. No way. Is that Felicia?"
"Yes," Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Kill me. Just combust right now and take me with you."
"What the hell is she doing here? What is she wearing?!"
"Denim, Johnny. She's wearing denim."
"I've never seen her in regular clothes. It's almost more distracting than the leather suit. Pete, she's a walking safety hazard."
"I know. Please just look away. Act natural."
"She has super cat senses, you idiot. She's already locked onto us. She's coming right over."
Peter peeked through his fingers. Sure enough, Felicia had spotted them. A wicked smirk crossed her lips as she adjusted her path, making a beeline straight for their table.
She stopped right in front of them, resting her hands on her hips. She completely ignored Peter, locking her eyes entirely on Johnny.
"Well, well, well," Felicia purred, her voice dripping with honey. "Johnny Storm. Look at you. College really suits you, Matchstick."
"Felicia! Hey!" Johnny grinned, immediately sitting up straighter and puffing his chest out a bit. "Long time no see. You look... incredible. Wow."
"Thank you," she smiled, leaning slightly over the table. "You don't look so bad yourself. Still wearing the expensive designer jackets, I see? Very handsome."
Peter clenched his jaw. "What are you doing here, Fe?"
Felicia blinked, turning her head as if she was just noticing him for the first time. She pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes and peered at him. "Peter! I didn't even see you sitting there."
"I'm sitting three inches away from him."
"You blend in, lover. It's that hideous sweater. It washes you out."
"It's practical! And it's cold in the lecture halls!"
"It’s tragic," she corrected smoothly. She turned her attention right back to Johnny, dragging a perfectly manicured finger along the edge of the table. "So, Johnny. Taking some classes?"
"Yeah, you know. Trying to get cultured," Johnny bragged, totally eating up the attention. "Gotta expand the mind."
"I love a man who expands his mind," she teased, batting her eyelashes over the rim of her sunglasses.
Peter actually twitched. "Don't do that."
"Do what, Spider?" Felicia asked innocently.
"Don't flirt with him. I'll actually throw up on my tater tots."
"Aww, is the Spider getting jealous?" Felicia cooed, stepping just a fraction of an inch closer to Johnny.
"I'm not jealous," Peter snapped. "I'm having a stress response. Why are you here, Felicia? Are you casing the administration building? Did someone hide a diamond in the library?"
"I can't just come say hi to my two favorite heroes?" she asked, putting a hand over her heart. "It's been a while since we all hung out."
"Last time we all 'hung out', you almost got me captured by the King of Wakanda," Peter deadpanned.
"Oh, come on. It was a tiny little misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?!" Johnny yelled, suddenly snapping out of his flirtatious daze as the memory hit him. "You tricked me!"
"I asked for a favor, Johnny. Friends do favors for friends."
"I had a tuxedo, Felicia! I bought a custom tuxedo for that gala!" Johnny pointed an accusatory french fry at her. "I was supposed to be drinking champagne and looking at cool African artifacts! And instead, I was melting a laser grid!"
"You looked very heroic doing it," Felicia cooed.
"Don't try to sweet-talk me! You lied to my face!" Johnny looked at Peter. "Pete, she literally cried. Real tears! She told me her dead dad left his lucky lock-pick at the embassy years ago and it was the only thing she had left to remember him by!"
"My dad is dead, Johnny," Felicia pointed out reasonably.
"Yeah, but you didn't want the lock-pick for sentimental reasons! You just wanted the lock-pick so you could steal more stuff!"
"It's a very good lock-pick. My father had excellent taste in burglary tools."
"You two are unbelievable," Peter groaned, rubbing his temples again. "Do you have any idea how bad that night was for me?"
"You didn't even have to do anything, Spider," Felicia waved him off.
"I was following you!" Peter yelled, keeping his voice just low enough so the neighboring tables couldn't hear. "I knew you were just using him. Then, all of sudden, T'Challa just showed up while you two were flirting by the vault!"
Felicia laughed, a bright, clear sound that made a few heads turn their way again. "It was very cute watching you try to explain yourself."
"It wasn't cute, Fe! I was fighting for my life while you were flirting with the Human Torch!"
"I had to keep him distracted so I could grab the pick," Felicia smiled, completely unrepentant.
"You completely played me," Johnny said, shaking his head. "After we got away and Peter caught up with us, you actually kissed him. The romantic tension was a lie."
"The tension was real, Matchstick," she winked. "The motive was just a little skewed."
"You're a menace. Hot, but an absolute menace." Johnny sighed, stealing one of Peter's tater tots. "And you," he pointed at Peter. "You were so damn jealous that night."
"I wasn't jealous," Peter argued immediately. "I was angry that you were destroying diplomatic relations with a sovereign nation!"
"Bullshit," Johnny laughed. "You were totally jealous. You were glaring at me the entire time."
"I was glaring at you because you melted a laser grid!"
"I melted it because she asked nicely!"
"She used you to make me jealous!"
"It worked!" Felicia and Johnny said at the exact same time.
Peter closed his mouth, glaring at the table. He hated it when they teamed up.
Johnny chewed on his stolen tot, looking between the two of them. The banter faded out, leaving a surprisingly comfortable silence. Johnny squinted, his eyes darting from Felicia's amused smirk to Peter's annoyed, but undeniably fond scowl.
The way Felicia was standing, with her hip lightly brushing against Peter's shoulder even while she argued with Johnny. The way Peter wasn't actually trying to pull away.
"Wait a second," Johnny said slowly, the realization dawning on his face.
"What?" Peter snapped defensively.
"You guys are... back together."
"We're not back together," Peter lied instantly.
"Oh, we're very much together," Felicia countered without missing a beat.
"Felicia!"
"What? We are, Peter. You literally left your toothbrush in my bathroom this morning."
"I forgot it! I was in a rush because I had a morning lecture!"
Johnny burst out laughing, slapping his hand against the table. "Holy shit. You actually caught the Cat. Or she caught you. This is hilarious."
"There's nothing hilarious about it," Peter grumbled. "She's just here to make my life difficult."
"No, this... this is different," Johnny observed, leaning back and crossing his arms.
"Different how?" Felicia asked, her playful tone dropping just a fraction.
"It's not toxic," Johnny said simply. "I mean, it's a little toxic, because it's you two. But it's not the usual cat and mouse crap. This feels real. Domestic. You're bickering like my grandparents."
"We don't bicker like an old married couple," Peter said, entirely unconvincing.
"Dude, you just yelled at her about leaving a toothbrush. That's domestic as hell."
"I was defending my dental hygiene!"
"Whatever you say, Pete." Johnny stood up, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Alright. I'm gonna get out of here before the sexual tension sets my burger wrapper on fire. It's getting weird."
"You don't have to leave, Johnny, we're all friends here," Felicia said, though she was already sitting in front of Peter.
"Oh, I definitely do. See ya around, Felicia. Try not to break his heart again. Or do, it makes him hit harder when we do team-ups." Johnny threw up a peace sign. "Later, loser."
"Go fail your class, Johnny."
Johnny laughed and walked away, disappearing into the sea of college students.
The moment he was gone, the entire dynamic at the table shifted. The performative, flashy energy Felicia had been putting on for Johnny evaporated instantly. She took her sunglasses off, set them on the table, and started touching Peter's leg with her boots.
"He's annoying," Felicia stated flatly.
"He's my friend. And you just flirted with him for ten minutes straight."
"I was making you crazy, Spider. It’s my job."
"You excel at it. My blood pressure is skyrocketing." Peter finally turned to look at her properly, dropping his guard. "Seriously, Cat. What are you doing here?"
"I came because I missed you. And because I'm trying."
Peter frowned. "Trying what?"
"To get closer to your world." She used her free hand to dig into the small designer purse sitting on her lap. "I decided that cooking was a bust. I'm banned from your kitchen anyway after the dumpling incident, even if it wasn't my fault."
"You made a mess with your bad luck powers," Peter pointed out.
"Whatever. Anyway, I decided I need to take a more direct approach to understanding your world. So, I took action." She pulled out a folded piece of paper and slammed it onto the table in front of him.
Peter looked at it. It was an ESU course syllabus.
"Art History 101," Peter read aloud. He looked up at her, utterly confused. "You... you stole a syllabus?"
"No, idiot. I'm taking the class."
"You enrolled in college?"
"I enrolled in one class," she corrected him. "Let's not get crazy. But yes. I'm officially a student at Empire State University. Lectures are on Tuesdays and Thursdays at two o'clock. Which means I get to see you on campus. Like a normal girlfriend."
Peter stared at her completely speechless. The Black Cat, the world's most notorious thief, a woman who practically lived on rooftops and drank champagne on stolen yachts, had enrolled in an intro-level art class at a public university. For him.
His heart did that stupid, stuttering flip.
"Fe," he breathed, a massive, genuine smile breaking across his face. "Are you serious? You really did this?"
"Don't look at me like that, it's not a big deal," she mumbled, looking away, suddenly embarrassed. "I already know everything about art anyway. I've stolen half the pieces in the textbook. I'm just gonna sit in the back and judge the professor."
"This is amazing," Peter laughed. "I can't believe you did this. Wait. How did you even get in? Admissions closed months ago."
"I'm rich, Peter. And I know people who can hack into the registrar's office. It took twenty minutes."
"Right. Of course." He shook his head, still smiling like an idiot. He looked back down at the syllabus. "Wait a second."
He leaned closer to the paper, his eyes scanning the top line where the student's name was printed.
"Felicia," Peter said slowly.
"Yeah?"
"What does this say?" He pointed at the top right corner of the page.
Felicia cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "It says my name."
"It says Francesca," Peter read, his voice starting to tremble with suppressed laughter. "Francesca... Featherbottom."
"It's an alias!" she snapped quickly.
"Francesca Featherbottom," Peter repeated. He let go of her hand and covered his mouth.
"Stop it."
"Featherbottom?" Peter choked out. A loud snort escaped his nose. "Are you kidding me? That's the name you chose?"
"I didn't have time to make a new one up!" she hissed. "It's an old passport! I had it lying around the safe!"
Peter completely lost it. He threw his head back and laughed hysterically. He couldn't stop. He was literally crying, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.
"Shut up, Peter! It's a very distinguished name!"
"It sounds like a cartoon duck!" he wheezed, banging his fist on the table. "Francesca Featherbottom! Oh my god. I'm dating Francesca Featherbottom."
"I used that name to infiltrate a gala in Prague!" she defended herself, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "I stole three million dollars in diamonds under that name!"
"Did you 'waddle away' with the diamonds, Ms. Featherbottom?" Peter gasped, clutching his stomach.
Felicia kicked him hard under the table.
"Ow!" Peter yelped, though he was still laughing. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but a rogue giggle slipped out anyway. Felicia rolled her eyes, fighting a smile of her own. She hated when he laughed at her, but she secretly loved how completely unguarded he looked right now.
"Are you done?" she asked dryly.
"Yes. Yes, I'm done." He wiped his eyes one last time and smiled at her. "Francesca."
She kicked him again.
"Okay, okay, seriously, I'm done!" He grabbed her knee under the table to stop her from kicking him a third time. "Honestly, Fe. It's... it's really sweet. It really is. Thank you."
Felicia softened. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "You're welcome, loser."
"So, Art History, huh?" Peter asked, looking at his watch. "When's your first class?"
"In about ten minutes." She sighed heavily, dropping her head onto the table. "God, I don't want to go. Come with me. We can go hide in a closet somewhere. I'll let you take these ugly jeans off me."
Peter swallowed hard. The mental image of that hit him like a freight train. "Don't tempt me. But no. I have an advanced biochem lab in twenty minutes, and if I miss it, I fail the semester."
Felicia lifted her head, pouting perfectly. "You're no fun."
"I'm responsible. And you need to go to class. You're a student now, remember?" He stood up, grabbing his backpack. "Come on. I'll walk you to the humanities building."
Felicia stood up, grabbing her purse and the syllabus. She looped her arm through his as they started walking down the concrete path.
"You know," Peter said casually as they walked. "If you really want the full college experience, we should probably hit up a frat party this weekend. Drink some keg beer. Stand awkwardly in a corner."
"I'd rather jump off the Chrysler building without a grapple hook."
"Okay, no parties. How about a study date? We can go to the library. I'll quiz you on the Renaissance."
Felicia stopped walking. She turned to him, sliding both her arms around his neck, pulling him down slightly so they were eye to eye. They were standing right in the middle of the quad. People were definitely staring now, but Peter didn't care. He wrapped his arms around her waist.
"I'll tell you what," Felicia whispered, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. "I'll go to this stupid class. I won't steal anything from the professor. But tonight, when you come over to my place... you have to call me Professor Featherbottom."
Peter burst out laughing again, dropping his forehead against her shoulder. "Deal. Now go to class, Francesca."
"I hate you, Spider."
"I love you too, Cat."