Late Mornings and Awkward Encounters
Midtown – Swinging into Chaos
Peter soared through the New York skyline, his web-shooters launching him forward as he flipped over buildings. He had just finished his exams and was supposed to head to the Baxter Building—but, of course, fate had other plans.
His HUD pinged an alert in his mask.
“Sir, I have detected heightened police activity on 45th Street. The perpetrator is identified as Abner Jenkins—code name: Beetle.”
Peter groaned. “Great. Just what I needed. A flying moron in a tin can.”
“ERIC, send Doctor Storm an email. Say I—uh—overslept and will be running a bit late.”
“Sir, might I suggest a better excuse?” ERIC quipped in his usual dry tone. “One that does not imply you are irresponsible?”
Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Say I got caught up with something. That vague enough for you?”
“Very much so, sir. Sending the email now.”
“Yeah, yeah” Peter sighed. “Make it sound like I’m super sorry.”
“Shall I add a frowny face for extra effect?”
Peter smirked. “You know what? Go for it.”
As ERIC sent the email, Peter dropped from the sky, angling toward the action.
Beetle was hovering above the street, his suit gleaming under the city lights. His reinforced wings buzzed, sending a gust of wind through the streets as police sirens wailed below.
Peter landed on a nearby lamppost, crossing his arms.
“Wow. A flying cockroach terrorizing the city? Where’s an exterminator when you need one?”
Beetle turned his glowing red visor toward him. “Spider-Man. Should’ve known you’d show up to ruin my fun.”
Peter tilted his head. “Fun? You call robbing an armored truck fun? Dude, get a hobby.”
With a roar, Beetle fired his arm-mounted plasma blasters.
Peter backflipped just in time, dodging the searing blasts. “Yeesh! You ever heard of a warning shot?!”
Beetle charged, his metal wings slicing through the air. Peter dodged midair, twisting and shooting a web at Beetle’s left wing. He yanked—hard—sending Beetle into a wild spin.
“Whoops! Careful there, buddy. Air traffic control is gonna be pissed!”
Beetle recovered quickly, stabilizing himself with a sharp thrust of his wings. “You think you’re funny, web-head?”
Peter landed on a building ledge. “Oh, I know I’m funny. The real question is—”
He flung himself forward, feet-first, slamming into Beetle’s chest.
“—do you think you’re tough enough?”
Beetle crashed into the side of a billboard, groaning.
Peter shot two webs at the nearby buildings and catapulted forward with immense force, aiming a punch straight at Beetle’s helmet.
But the villain tilted his head last second, and Peter’s fist skidded off the side, barely missing his visor.
Beetle retaliated, kneeing Peter in the gut and throwing him backward.
Peter flipped midair, landing on the roof of a taxi. “Ow. Rude.”
Beetle shot forward, his boosters flaring, and sent a plasma punch straight at Peter’s face.
Spider-Man ducked, twisting under the attack, and webbed Beetle’s thrusters, yanking them down.
Beetle’s flight system malfunctioned, sending him spiraling toward the ground.
Peter followed, spinning a web net midair, catching Beetle just before he could slam into the pavement.
The police swarmed in, guns drawn.
“He’s all yours, officers,” Peter quipped.
One of them gave him a knowing smirk. “You’re a real pain in the ass, Spidey.”
Peter grinned under his mask. “You love me.”
And with that, he swung away.
The moment Peter swung into his dorm room, he peeled off his mask, his chest rising and falling from exertion. His fight with Beetle had taken longer than expected, and he was sore all over. He had managed to subdue the armored mercenary with well-placed webbing and brute strength, but not before taking a few hits. His enhanced durability ensured he wasn’t badly injured, but he still felt the impact of the blows.
With a tired groan, he tapped his watch, commanding the nanites of his suit to retract back into it. His regular clothes materialized over his frame as he rubbed the exhaustion from his face.
Peter rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the fatigue as he grabbed his backpack and headed out.
Susan was already at her workstation, glancing up as he entered.
“You’re late,” she noted, arms crossed.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Got a little—distracted.”
Susan raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in a knowing smirk. “By what? Let me guess—overslept?”
Peter coughed into his fist. “Something like that.”
She chuckled. “You should invest in a better alarm clock, Parker.”
Peter shrugged, setting his bag down. “I’ll add that to my list of expensive gadgets I definitely can’t afford.”
“ Sent you an email.”
Susan smirked. “I saw. Cute frowny face, by the way.”
Peter groaned.
“You instructed me to include it, sir.”
Susan laughed, shaking her head. “You’re an idiot.”
As they worked, Peter felt himself relax.
Susan had an easy presence—sharp, intelligent, and just the right amount of sarcastic.
They bounced ideas off each other, exchanging quips between calculations and blueprints.
At one point, Susan leaned over his shoulder, pointing at his project. “Want some help with this?”
Peter, exhausted but grateful, sighed. “Yeah. That’d be great.”
As they worked together, Peter realized something. It was effortless.
He wasn’t overthinking. He wasn’t keeping his guard up.
He was just… enjoying it.
They were so engrossed that neither noticed when the door opened.
Johnny Storm walked in, pausing when he saw them.
Peter and Susan were intimately close, heads tilted toward each other, murmuring calculations under their breaths.
Johnny’s eyes narrowed.
With an exaggerated sigh, he stomped forward.
“What the hell is this?”
Peter and Susan jumped apart, both stammering.
“W-We were just—”
“—working!”
Johnny crossed his arms, looking between them. “Uh-huh.”
Peter cleared his throat. “Look, dude, I swear, it’s just—”
Johnny cut him off. “I don’t like you with my sister.”
Susan’s expression immediately soured.
“Johnny!” she snapped.
Johnny pointed at Peter. “I don’t trust him.”
Peter blinked. “Well, that’s just rude.”
Susan glared at Johnny. “Get out.”
Johnny scowled but backed off, muttering, “Not over yet, Parker.”
Susan, visibly annoyed, turned to Peter. “Sorry about that.”
Peter shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I get it.”
An awkward silence settled between them.
Susan cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about him.”
Peter shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, I get it. Overprotective brother and all.”
“He doesn’t have to be it was nothing” Susan told him but his heart felt heavy.
Susan sighed, then offered him a small smile. “Let’s just get back to work.”
Eventually, they just returned to their workstations, avoiding eye contact.
As the night wrapped up, Peter hesitated before leaving.
“Uh… goodnight, Susan.”
Susan smiled. “Goodnight, Peter.”
Something about the way she said his name made his chest tighten.
He quickly turned away before his brain could do something stupid.
Denial is a River in Egypt
As Peter swung through the city, ERIC’s voice chimed in.
“Sir, your heart rate increases significantly whenever you interact with Doctor Storm.”
Peter sighed. “ERIC. Not this again.”
“Your physiological responses suggest attraction.”
Peter groaned. “Drop it, dude.”
“She appears to reciprocate.”
Peter hesitated.
“…She does?”
“Analysis suggests mutual interest.”
Peter sighed, rubbing his face. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
Peter exhaled. “Look, I can’t. It’s complicated.”
“I do not believe it is as complicated as you make it.”
Peter gritted his teeth. “ERIC, enough.”
A pause.
“Understood, sir.But my primary function is your well being and it does involve your complicated relationships”
Peter sighed again. “Thanks, buddy but I got it.”
Peter landed near a pizza shop, grabbing a large pepperoni pie before heading to his dorm.
As he collapsed onto his bed, he muttered, “Just another day in paradise.”
And yet…
His mind lingered on a certain blonde scientist— to Susan—her laugh, her smile, the way she focused when she worked.
And, of course, the way Johnny had immediately assumed something was going on between them.
Peter sighed. He couldn’t let himself get close. Not now.
But as he fell asleep, his last thought was of Susan Storm.