Streets of New York; Late at Night
The building is dark and hollow by the time I clock out. The echoing lights shut off one by one down the hall, and when I finally step outside into the dim gray of night, the buzzing, whispery hum of electronics drains away, replaced by a new thrum– engines and soft rain. I don’t have an umbrella with me– the forecast said sunny skies all day, but I never thought to check for what it’d be after dark.
I glance at my watch, the one Harry gifted to me. The intricate design of a clock face ticks by slowly, but it’s hard to tell what’s flourishes and what’s an actual number indicator, so I drop my wrist in favor of finding the moon.
Hidden by clouds. Of course.
I go through the hassle of pulling my phone out of my bag, digging through until I finally graze the bottom and fish it out.
Dead. Forgot to charge it earlier.
Why didn’t I charge it?
I blink down at the lifeless screen with a frown. All those meetings and discussions… did I really not check it the entire time I was inside? Damn.
I toss it back into my bag and begin the trudge home.
A few blocks go by easily, not too steep of a slope, nothing I can’t handle. I weave through the alleyways I know, and avoid the ones I don’t.
A shadow across my vision makes me freeze mid-step.
It’s gone after a second, but I scan the sky, glancing across the fire escapes and rooftops of the buildings packed around me.
“Hey–”
I shriek, the pain of the punch I throw out arriving faster than the decision to punch does, and I stumble backwards to clutch my wrist to my chest because “--fuckin hell that hurts, what the fuck are you made of fucking metal–”
Spiderman is at my side in an instant, apologizing profusely. I wave him off.
“Nothing’s broken,” I grit out, shaking my hand a little, “Just… jesus. Don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”
Spiderman cringes. “You threw a good hook, at least.”
“Hurt me more than it hurt you,” I grumble. “You need something?”
He pauses. “Uh- I was going to ask you that.”
“Oh.”
An expectant look.
“Oh, right, yeah, no, I just–” I make a vague gesture over my shoulder, “I’m just… walking back to my place. Yeah.”
He tilts his head and glances me up and down and I frown, shifting my weight and reshouldering my bag.
“What are you, some sort of vulture?” I snort, “No need to study me, damn. I’m telling the truth.”
“But… isn’t your place…” he looks down the street, to me, and then up the street. “You sure you’re on the right avenue?”
I pause. “Is this not…” I finally take stock of my surroundings. Shit. Where the hell am I. “Oh.”
He rolls his eyes. “For someone who’s clearly native to the area, I’d expect you to be more aware, you know, of your surroundings.”
“Shut up,” I hiss, falling into step beside him. “I was busy.”
“Busy wandering? Figured you might find some sort of secret hideout?”
“No, busy thinking.”
“Congratulations on the discovery of thought.”
“Fuck off.”
“You’re the one in need of directions in your home-town.”
“I don’t need a man in a bug costume telling me where to go.”
“Ouch,” he replies, tone flat and laced with a hint of amusement, “That one really hurt me. Struck right between the ribs, straight to the heart.”
“Clearly.”
“How would the public feel if you killed Spiderman?”
“I can think of a few outlets that might even celebrate.”
“Would you join them?”
“Scare me again and you bet your ass I will.”
He laughs, and I shrug, failing to not crack a smile.
I don’t know him, per se, but… I tend to get in more fantastical situations than most citizens do, especially with the new influx of the Green Goblin attacks. Things blow up and I happen to be right at the center of it. Seeing him there, getting saved that often… it leads to more frequent moments like this, where I just… speak casually. With the Spiderman. As if I’ve known him for years.
It’s nice.
It really does feel like the most normal thing in the world.
Maybe I should take the wrong route more often.
“Do you really just spend all day running around New York?”
The white covering his eyes on the suit widen slightly, and he falters a little. “Yeah. Sorta.”
“You don’t have any like… friends? Family?”
He hums a little. “Yes I do. Everyone does.”
“But how…”
“Not a lot of them, though.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“Man, your folks must get real angry when you track alien guts into the house after a fight, huh?”
Spiderman barks out a laugh, nodding. “Yeah, yeah I mean– I’ve got this one friend, he…”
His expression turns to something I can’t quite make out in the dim lamplights.
“He totally hates it when I get home covered in, like… dirt and blood.”
“Oh, you’d be great friends with my Peter,” I say, snapping my fingers, “That boy just cannot get away from the bad crowd. I’m half convinced he’s in some sort of gang with how often his aunt calls to worry over the bruises.”
“His aunt calls you?”
“Yeah, I told her to keep an eye out. He’s got these scars that just… litter him, y’know?” I frown, crossing my arms in the chill, staring ahead of me, “And… and he’s always tired. Lately it’s been pretty bad, I think. But I haven’t really seen him a lot? If I’m being honest…”
“Yeah?”
“Sometimes I worry that someday, when I turn a corner, it’ll be him in the rubble, too.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my hands out, stuffing them into my pockets. “No, no you’re all good. He seems to hold his own in whatever fights he gets into. I bet you so much money that it’s a dick named Flash who keeps beating his ass.”
“Maybe.”
“Yep. Well, in any case, if you see a wandering, lost, beat-up guy around my age named Peter Parker, keep him extra safe, yeah? Make sure he gets wherever he needs to go on time, too, because he is clinically late to every single function.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“I think he’s in a gang.”
Spiderman snorts. “I…. wouldn’t know. Maybe.”
“He’s totally in a gang.”
“Well–”
“If he’s in a gang he’d better be saving up money, or else I’ll be so disappointed. Like… why be in a gang if you aren’t getting totally rich from it in the end? Duh.”
Spiderman ducks his head down, laughing quietly. “I’ll bet on it. Fifteen bucks says Peter Parker is not in a gang.”
I laugh, grinning up at him. “Oh you are so on, and I am so going to win this.”
“Something tells me you won’t.”
“I will.”
“Will not.”
“You’re just a hater.”
“I think they use the term menace, actually.”
“That too.”