Sweet Nothings

For the next three days, Peter hid in his dorm room on campus. Darcy rarely ever wandered into the residential halls, and Peter was pretty sure Wade didn’t even know their campus had dorms. His roommate had transferred out the week after school began, so Peter had the room all to himself. His phone was shoved in the back of a desk drawer and he avoided his email account. He only ventured out for class and the grocery run he had to make when he discovered that all he had in his mini fridge was a bag of celery. As long as he kept his headphones in, no one tried to talk to him as he walked across the campus. Besides the grocery run, he only left campus once, to go to his check up. The doctor had been shocked at his recovery. He gave him the all clear and let him go. To celebrate, Peter flopped face down on his bed and fell asleep.

            Somewhere between midnight and daybreak, Peter heard a knock on his door. He ignored it, pulling his comforter over his head and covering his ears. The knocking persisted for a solid twenty minutes before they gave up. Peter relaxed and was slowly drifting off when his window was flung open and someone tumbled in. Peter sat straight up, his mouth wide open. The person stumbled to their feet and turned the light on.

            “Hey, punk,” Clint waved.

            Peter sighed and dropped back onto the bed. “Go away.”

            “Yeah, not going to happen,” Clint returned to the window and leaned out.

            “How the hell did you even get up here?” Peter asked. “I’m on the fourth floor.”

            Clint shrugged. “I have my ways.”

            He stepped back from the window and an arm appeared, wrapping around the sill. There was a grunt and Darcy somersaulted onto the floor with a loud curse. Clint helped her to her feet before shutting the window.

            Peter stared at them. “You are both crazy. Get out.”

            “Fuck you,” Darcy punched him in the shoulder.

            “What?” Peter sat up.

            Darcy pushed him, her eyes flashing. “I said, fuck you. We’ve been friends for a fucking lifetime and you disappear for days without telling me where you’re going or if you’re okay? Do you know how fucking worried I was? For all I knew, you could’ve been murdered and left in a ditch in Iowa! You won’t answer your damn phone, you won’t respond to any emails, and you won’t talk to me. What the fuck?”

            Peter pushed her away and stood. “It wasn’t your business, Darcy. You aren’t responsible for me. Stop acting like I owe it to you.”

            Darcy stared at him, and Peter could see the fury boiling behind her eyes. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Darcy shook her head.

            “I can’t believe you, you ass!” she yelled.

            Peter reached a hand out to touch her shoulder and she knocked it away. Her eyes were brimming with tears. She swiped a hand across her face.

            “You want to be left alone?” Darcy shouted. “Too goddamn bad! I know you’re pissed. Steve shouldn’t have said that. I know that, he knows it, too. He feels terrible about it. But you were being a prick, Peter. They were worried about you, and instead of you listening to what they were trying to tell you, you pushed them away. And Steve snapped. So stop fucking wallowing in your own goddamn sorrow before I kick your scrawny ass!”

            Darcy punctuated the last sentence with a sharp shove to Peter’s chest. Peter sat down hard on the edge of the bed.

Darcy took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “If you’re ready to act like a mature human being, you can come with me voluntarily. If not, I’ll push you out the window and drag your body to the car. Your choice.”

Peter glanced at Clint, who looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Go,” Darcy ordered.

Peter shot her a look. “No way in hell.”

“GO,” Darcy repeated, shoving Peter.

Peter took a deep breath and shuffled into the bakery with his head down.

“Dead man walking,” Clint muttered behind him.

Darcy jabbed him in the side. “Shut up, Clint.”

Peter kept his eyes fixed on his feet and stopped walking a few steps into the bakery. Darcy kept walking, but Clint paused next to him.

“Hey,” Clint waited for Peter to look up. “Relax, kid. Darcy’s the most upset. Everyone else is just worried. You’ll be fine.”

Peter nodded once and lifted his head enough to look around. Natasha waved from behind the counter, bent over the appointment book. Darcy pushed through the kitchen door and let it swing shut behind her. Clint clambered up his ladder and left Peter by himself. Peter slowly made his way towards the counter, feeling incredibly awkward.

Natasha smiled. “Good to see you again, Peter.”

“Thanks. You, too,” Peter returned her smile.

Natasha rummaged around under the counter and came up with an apron. “Feel like pitching in?”

Peter took the apron and tied it around his waist. He walked behind the counter and started loading the trays on the counter into the case. He fell into his rhythm. This was familiar territory for him. He was comfortable.

The door burst open like it had been kicked in. Steve rushed out and froze when he caught sight of Peter behind the counter. Peter straightened up slowly and lifted his hand in greeting. Steve repeated the gesture and took a step closer.

“Hey, Peter. How are you?” Steve’s voice was soft and low.

Peter looked away. “Kind of embarrassed, actually. I…I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I’m sorry, Steve. It was immature and-oof!”

Steve grabbed Peter in a bear hug. “No, no! It was a completely rational reaction. What I said was out of line. I’m so sorry, Peter.”

“It’s okay, Steve, really,” Peter assured him. “But, um, I can’t really…breathe right now.”
            Steve let him go and stepped back. Tony’s office door opened and he stepped out with a grin on his face.

“Hey! I thought I heard you. You’re back?” Tony asked anxiously.

Peter nodded. “Yeah. If you guys still want to put up with me.”

Tony slung an arm around his shoulder. “Always, kiddo. Hey, while you were gone, I had an idea.”

“Yeah?” Peter looked at him uncertainly.

Tony laughed. “Relax. I was thinking you could stay in out guest room if you wanted. That way you’ll be closer to the bakery. And you won’t have to worry about college kids interrupting your studying.”

“No, he’ll just have to worry about Clint coming over,” Natasha said from the counter.

Clint squawked from the balcony.

“Wow, uh, yeah. That would be cool. Thanks,” Peter smiled.

Tony thrust his fist in the air. “Fuck yes! New roommate! I’m really glad you said yes, because I already sent people to clear out your dorm room.”

Steve shook his head. “You are ridiculous.”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” Tony waggled his eyebrows.

The morning of the music festival, Peter woke up in his new room, sprawled across the bed. He stretched and rolled off the bed, catching himself on his hands. He stood sleepily and rubbed his eyes, grabbing blindly at the shirt thrown over the back of the armchair. He tugged it over his head and stumbled into the hall. Yawning, he walked down the hall, his feet padding lightly against the wood floor. Steve and Tony’s bedroom door was still closed, but Peter could hear the hum of their voices. He paused at the door and Tony’s voice carried out to him.

“Hey Mr. Business Man, this one likes to please,” he sang loudly. “With a special service in the French qualities.”

Steve groaned. “Tony, no. We agreed, no more classic rock during-“

“But she won’t sacrifice what you want tonight! She won’t come across unless there’s money in her hand and she’s calling all the shots!” Tony sang over Steve’s voice.

Peter shook his head fondly and continued on his way downstairs.

A couple of hours later, Tony whipped the car into a space in front of the bakery.

“Okay, team, we’ve got an hour to pack everything up and get on the road. Peter, you grab Darcy and start folding boxes. Got it?” Tony asked, holding the bakery door open.

Peter saluted. “Got it.”

Darcy looked up from her coffee mug. “Hey, Bambi! Are you ready to fold some boxes?”

“Show me the way,” Peter nodded.

Darcy handed him a stack of cardboard and started in on her first box. “So how’s it going, living with them?”

Peter shrugged. “Pretty good. I like it. Steve’s an awesome cook. Tony insists on reading all of my coursework to make sure the professor is teaching it correctly. He also sings a lot. Mostly classic rock.”

“Really?” Darcy asked. “At least he doesn’t hum. My last roommate hummed constantly. After a week I wanted to stab her. Too bad you don’t know the songs he’s singing.”

Peter sat up, insulted. “Hey, I listen to classic rock. He was singing AC/DC this morning.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows in a challenge. “Oh, yeah? What song?”

Clint wandered in behind her, a stack of fliers in his arms. “What are you two fighting about this time?”

Peter ignored him. “‘Got You By The Balls!’”

“Whoa!” Clint stopped walking. “What the hell?”

Darcy grinned. “Nice choice, Stark.”

Clint waved his arms around. “What are you talking about?”

“Peter heard Tony singing AC/DC this morning,” Darcy finally explained.

Clint burst out laughing, sending the papers everywhere. He was laughing so hard that Peter could see tears forming in his eyes.

Darcy stared at him. “Why are you laughing?”

“Do you…Do you know what it…means…when Tony…sings that?” Clint gasped out.

“Obviously not,” Peter sighed.

“It…means…they’re…fucking,” Clint collapsed to the ground and clutched his sides. “Oh my god! You’re…so…innocent.”

Darcy slapped a hand over her mouth. “Holy shit! That’s perfect!”

Peter stared at them, his jaw hanging wide open. “What? How do you know that?”

Clint sat up, wiping his eyes. “I lived with them for a while when I first moved into the city. Swear to god I walked in on them once a week. Tony sings classic rock during sex to piss Steve off, but apparently he does it for fun now. Hey, listen Peter. If you hear anything that sounds vaguely like Pink Floyd or Led Zepplin, run.”

Darcy dissolved into giggles. “That is too perfect.”

The door to the kitchen opened and a few strains of the radio drifted through.

“She can play the school girl and spank you all you please-“

“Oh, shit,” Peter buried his face in his hands.

“Hey, Parker!”

Peter looked up at the sound of Wade’s voice. He was working the bakery booth with Darcy and Bruce while everyone else worked the crowd. Peter handed a teenager only a year or two younger than him their change and turned to Wade.

“Hey. What’s up?” Peter asked casually.

Wade’s eyes widened at the display of cupcakes. “Oh my god, food.”

Peter laughed. “Nice to see you, too.”

Wade made a face at him and handed him some cash. Peter took it and gestured towards the tower of cupcakes. Wade grabbed a strawberry shortcake one and bit into it, smearing frosting all over his lips. Wade licked his thumb and looked around.

“Bet you guys are making a killing today,” he said.

Peter shrugged. “We’ve been pretty busy, yeah.”

Wade finished off his cupcake and brushed off his hands. “So what time do you get off?”

“Five, I think,” Peter replied, passing change to another customer. “Why?”

Wade looked away. “Well, you know, there’s that movie you were talking about last week. That one with the spiders? I thought we could go see that and hang out.”

Peter’s heartlept in his chest. “Yes! That sounds awesome. We should do that. Definitely. Absolutely. I like that plan. It’s a good-“

“Peter,” Wade cut in. “You’re rambling.”

Peter flushed. “Right.”

“I’ll meet you at the bakery at six, Parker,” Wade grinned.

Peter watched him go before turning back to his job. Darcy was staring at him.

“What?” Peter ducked his head.

“Get some, Bambi!” Darcy shrieked in delight. “I am so proud of you! I taught you so well! I take all credit. When you guys get married, I expect to be your maid of honor!”

“Darcy…” Peter shook his head.

Darcy shushed him. “Maid of honor!”