Day Two
Sunlight filtered in through the planks over the windows, making Peter stir. He wearily blinked, rubbing the crust from his eyes. He felt kinda weird. Whatever, he felt weird all the time, it was probably nothing. Peter groaned, stretching and going over his mental to-do list. Look for a job, get some cleaning supplies to make this abandoned building slightly more welcoming, go grocery shopping, and scope out one of the shelters he had found on the map of the city yesterday. So much to do, so little time…
Peter snagged his wallet and jumped out of the window, relishing the feeling of falling before he landed comfortably on his feet. It was just one floor, he could jump that no problem. He wandered in what he hoped was the right direction of the shelter, following the smell of eggs and bacon. Sure enough, there it was. Peter quickly got in line for the food and began to scarf it down nearly as soon as it hit his plate. The server gave him an amused look and discreetly gave him another scoop of eggs, which Peter thanked them for with a beaming smile.
Okay, food, check! Next, groceries and shit.
Half an hour later, Peter had acquired a broom, a dustpan, several cans of food, a can opener, and some bottles of water. Those were deposited back at his new place and Peter once again headed off to the library. He greeted Miss Barbara and settled into the computer, looking at a list of job openings. There! A restaurant a couple miles away from his new ‘home.’ Perfect. He thanked Miss Barbara and was on his way.
Okay, so the restaurant was clearly a front for organized crime, but! That meant Peter had an entry into the criminal world, making it easier to gang bust. Hopefully no one tracked Spider-Man’s sources to him… he would just have to be careful. Peter could do that.
“Excuse me?” Peter called out. “I’m here for the waiter position?”
A rather large man came from the back of the dining room, giving Peter a once over. “You’re not going to last more than ten seconds.”
“Sure I am! And if I don’t, it’s not your problem, right?”
The man eyed Peter. “Guess not. Come on back.”
Peter did so, sitting down in a chair across from a desk that the guy gestured at. “The name’s Jared. Can you handle yourself?”
“In a fight?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure can.”
“Show me.”
The two duked it out for a moment, apparently satisfying Jared. “You a meta?” Jared asked.
Peter hesitated, remembering all too well how mutants were treated back home, how he was treated back home.
“If you are, it’ll help your case,” Jared remarked gruffly.
Peter nodded.
“Good. You have waiting experience?”
“Not really, but I’m a quick study and I’m polite.”
“Alright. When can you start?”
“Now, I guess? If you need a social security number, I don’t really have one of those… or a bank account… or an address…”
Jared scoffed. “Don’t need one here. We pay in cash. You keep your tips, too.”
“Okay, great!”
Jared waved a hand at some clothing folded to Peter’s right on a shelf. “Pick a uniform your size. Don’t lose it, don’t ruin it, or you pay for it, got that?”
Peter nodded and quickly did as he was told. Jared pointed at a restroom and Peter changed quickly. Okay, score. Peter has a job. Sweet.
The shift was over quickly, and while Peter didn’t make much in tips (he was only bussing for the moment, so that was to be expected), he did have a job! One that would help with his extra-curriculars! Hell yeah! By the time he was done, it was dusk again, which meant Spidey could go patrol. After he spruced his place up a bit.
Peter scrambled into the window and surveyed the area, looking for a good place to start. He wouldn’t touch the cobwebs, obviously. But he could sweep the floor. So he did so. He moved on, carefully stacking the cans of food into a neat pyramid, and then he started trying to figure out if he could get running water. He didn’t exactly have the tools to redirect the water without permanently ruining the pipes, so he would have to do with using gym showers for the moment. That was fine, he and Aunt May had done it once and he could do it again. (Don’t think about Aunt May, don’t.)
Peter pulled on his suit and tested his web-slingers, just in case. He paused, a weird tingling sensation had him pulling his web-slingers off and examining his wrists. Peter blinked, squinted, then blinked again. No way.
“I have a wrussy. Holy fuck I have a wrussy.”
Peter aimed at the wall, and sure enough, there it was. An opaque line was now sticking to the wall in front of him. How? Peter wracked his brain, trying to think? Maybe Miss Pam had a plant that he reacted weird to? Peter didn’t think that was it, but what else could it really be? He wasn’t sure…
Peter released the line and shot at the corner of the ceiling. He pulled himself up without any problem, and without any discomfort. Besides the knowledge of a wrussy.
Peter shook his head, pulling his web-slingers back on. He quickly got changed and with that, the first patrol as Spider-Man began.
A couple petty thefts here, some drug deals there, nothing too major. Peter landed back on his rooftop and changed back into civvies, crawling back up to the roofs and sitting on a rooftop a couple buildings away from his own. Decompress. Relax before getting to sleep. Shaking off the mistrust of the inhabitants and trying to not take it personally (he understood, he really did). Deep breaths of the chemical smog. Trying to not think about home about May—
“Hey, kid.” Peter felt them land behind him.
“Hey.”
“Don’t think I’ve seen you before.” They sat beside him, a man in a black suit with a blue bird design across his chest.
“That’s weird.” Super weird. It’s not like Peter just fell out of the sky, that would be crazy.
“You’re not on this rooftop for bad reasons, right?”
“Nah. It’s just easier to think.”
“Just checking.”
“Nightwing, right?”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
“Why are you in Red Hood’s territory?”
“Wow, rude much?”
Peter snorted. “What? It’s a valid question.”
“He’s out of town at the moment. Asked me to look out for it for him.”
“Ah. Gotcha.”
“You’ve got a home to go to?”
“Sure.”
“Hmm. Right. You’ve got a name?”
“...Peter.”
“You’ve got a last name?”
“I don’t know, do you?”
“Fair enough.”
They sat like that for a while, before gunshots rang in the distance, a siren call to a hero. “Stay safe, ‘kay, kid?”
“Will do, Mr. Nightwing. You too.”
The air sat empty next to Peter, and he went home for the night. He had a shift the next day, and he had to find a laundromat. And maybe figure out why he could naturally shoot webs out of his wrists.