Mamma Mia!

“Don’t you need two suits then?”

“One’s okay, I didn’t even plan on going to tomorrow's gala until today”

“Even more reason to get another one, you cannot just wear the same for two days. You’ll be kicked out and shunned.”

“Wait, really?”

“These types of events tend to be touchy about dress code, the gala is white tie, and the graduation is formal. And considering that you’ll be giving a speech, you need to look your best” Peter looked ready to argue “And don’t worry about the money, I’m more than happy to help, besides I’m also getting a suit for me, I was just invited to the gala myself” Oliver said proudly in his rough voice, looking around at the tailored suits.

Peter tried on suit after suit, until he and Oliver agreed on a white tie tuxedo and his graduation suit, Oliver insisted on getting them tailored, the man at the shop making quick work of it before Oliver decided on a tux for himself and got it tailored as well. The two made small talk about Peter’s classes and ideas for his speech, the older of them giving Peter pointers on sounding confident and encouraging him to be bold, using the more decent anecdotes of his past as examples, avoiding the unnecessary details of his youth.

They walked out of the tailor’s carrying a total of three new outfits, Oliver insisted on carrying them to his car and giving him a ride back to his dorms. He led them to a gray convertible, with the hood up because this is Gotham and he actually likes his car too much to let it get stolen or let the leather seats get ruined with the Gotham weather, pulling out his keys from his pocket and making quick work of unlocking it and carefully placing the suits over the back seats of the car. Peter stood watching the man and his expensive car in slight disbelief of the man’s wealth, some people walking around turned heads at the sight of the one and only Oliver Queen in Gotham, an incredibly rare sight. Oliver took notice Peter’s hesitance and opened the passenger seat door, gesturing for Peter to get in.

“Your ride awaits you Mr. Valedictorian!” said the blonde man, a big grin on his face and a glint in his eyes. Peter blushed shyly, not knowing what to reply to that and just getting into the car silently.

–🕸️–

By the time Oliver dropped him off at his dorms, it was 7 p. m. and the little light Gotham sometimes got during the day was starting to dissipate into the horizon. With a final nod of farewell, Peter exited the car and watched as Oliver drove off into the distance. Feeling a mix of excitement and pent-up energy from the day's events, Peter quickly made his way up to his dorm room.

Once inside, Peter set the tuxedos aside and glanced at the clock. It was still early afternoon, and he couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness. His mind was buzzing with thoughts of his encounter with Oliver and the talks about his mother, now with one thought in his head he decided to go out to patrol the city until his brain shut off.

With that in mind, Peter had a quick meal (a protein bar that was stuck in the back of his fridge); showered (splashed some water on his face); worked on his speech (rambled while pacing around his dorm roof), and now feeling refreshed (slightly less anxious) he was ready to set off and face the night (fight criminals while dealing with his own demons(anxiety and self-deprecation)).

He’d taken his time, that was for sure, it was now 10 p. m. and way over the curfew that was enforced in Gotham Academy, the last thing the school wanted was a lawsuit against them for not taking enough care of all these affluent kids with powerful parents. All of this was all well and dandy, if it didn’t also make Peter’s nightlife more of a challenge than it already was.

Sneaking out was an easy job, after all, the guards are more focused on what they keep out instead of keeping people in; it was sneaking back in that was so difficult. This might come as a shock to some, but Peter got tired, sneaking in at 4 a. m. after stopping criminals and being chased by bats, birds and angry criminals was kind of hard, and maybe, just maybe, it all got to him sometimes.

So, you can’t really blame him for not wanting to sneak back into his dorm at 3 a. m. with a batarang sticking out of his shoulder (which happened a couple of nights ago, if you recall). Sometimes when he really couldn’t go on anymore, too tired to sneak back to the dorms, he’d find a nice, abandoned alley, made a web hammock and turned in for the night with one eye open and an alarm set up on his phone to wake up in time to sneak back to his room bright and early before attendance was taken.

As he sneaked past the guards, crawling on the walls, staying in the shadows until it was safe to get down, hidden from guards and cameras, he thought about what other kids his age might be doing. Now that he thought about it, what do normal (-er) teenagers do on nights like these? Would they party? Would they be with friends? Peter wouldn’t really know, he kept people as far away as he could, too afraid to let anyone get too close, afraid of what could happen to them. The only type of people that he could ever be close to are the ones who are like him, who could protect themselves and even then, he knew that no one close to him lasted.

On a less depressing note, it seemed to be a slow day for crime in the normally appropriately named Crime Alley, this was rare, of course. He’s had slow days before, but normally that meant someone was cooking up some evil destruction plan that would be realized soon and Peter would have put in twice the effort to keep the people of the alley safe. But this night didn’t feel like those other times, there was no ominous feeling at the back of his neck, no sense of impending danger lurking in the shadows. Instead, the city seemed awfully calm, even serene, this was going to be a great night after all.

–🕸️–

It wasn’t a great night at all, in fact, one might even describe it as an awful night, horrible, even. The night was originally off to an amazing start, all of the crime he had stopped was of the petty kind and the criminals were mostly desperate for cash and in need of guidance and support, typical. That was until one of his last crime-stopping ventures, he had been on a roll for the night, plowing through the small amount of criminal activity active on this particularly quiet night. It was a robbery, or at least, it was about to be.

There were two young guys talking in an alley, planning for a “big score” at some tech store nearby from their current location. Peter had to admit, their plan was a bit ambitious but the way the were talking it seemed do-able. When they started talking about hostages as a plan b and about “avoiding bloodshed as much as possible” they suddenly make mention of “la araña” and Peter couldn’t help but start to think he could put a stop to this crime before it even started, he thought these people might just be strapped for cash and had no other solution.

With his mind set upon stopping these men, boys really, before they were officially criminals, Peter started making his way closer to the alley, being as silent as possible -which, for the record, was very silent-. So, it was a shock when, even though he was moving as silent as possible, which, again, is very silent, he accidentally stepped on something that made a less than silent noise.

Upon looking down to see what he stepped on he could only really see that it was glass, a long piece of hollow glass with a more spherical shape at the end and it was dirty almost like burnt or something and… it’s a crack pipe or was a crack pipe (why couldn’t crackheads just dispose of their used pipes correctly!? There are bins specifically for that all over the area for a reason!) before Peter stupidly didn’t see it or even smell it -to be fair, all of crime alley usually smells like crack, especially the alleys- and now the criminals-to-be were looking around because of the noise.

The spider-themed vigilante held his breath, hopefully they didn’t think they were about to be busted by a bat or something, he’d loose his opportunity to deal with them peacefully and they’d have to be stopped while they committed their crime, after all, you can’t arrest someone for almost committing a crime (technically you could but it’s not taken as a serious offence).

“Sounds like some fool stepped on a pipe ‘round here” said one of the wannabe criminals, he was wearing baggy pants, a big shirt and a flannel that only had the top button fastened, he was young, around 16-19, latino (most probably, don’t want to racially profile but they have accents and just their overall looks) and his head was buzzed. The other guy beside him looked a little older, they could be brothers, Peter theorized. The older of the two was probably in his 20s, he had longer, slightly wavy, dark hair, he was taller too; he wore a similar outfit to the younger one, who looked like straight up just borrowed clothes from the other’s closet.

The both of them were chuckling, probably at the thought of some “fool” that stepped on a crack pipe, the vigilante blushed under his mask, this was embarrassing, the guys planning a crime think his misfortune is amusing.

“Why can’t druggies just throw their used pipes in those special containers? I don’t get it; they were put all around the city so they wouldn’t be lying all over the damn place! It’s not that hard!” exclaimed the older of the pair, it seemed like this was something he got upset at often.

“I literally just thought that too! You’re reading my mind, man!” said Spider-man, seemingly appearing out of nowhere at the entrance to the alley, cornering the other men in the alley. This startled the pair, who both jumped a little and the tried to play it cool when they saw it was the spider-man talking.

“Ey, we’ve done nothin’ man!” said the older throwing his arms to the side in protest.

“Güey! ¿y si nos escuchó haciendo el plan?” said the younger in Spanish (see? It wasn’t racial profiling! Peter knew his latinos), clearly worried, looking like he is one accusation away from crying. Upon hearing what the younger said, the other man started to look a little worried and the vigilante in across from them -who understood Spanish- started to get worried he might do something rash.

“I did hear you” said spider-man and the older of the other pair looked like he might pull a gun, so he put his hand up in surrender and kept talking “but I want to help you guys, I want to understand why you feel the need to plan something like this” this seemed to calm the (probably?) brothers who looked at each other before the older started to talk.

“We just need the money, man. Our dad was in debt to a gang, the Black Mask, and he disappeared. So, they found my lil’ brother and now I gotta pay up or join them and I don’t wanna die in their shit, but someone dies either way!” the older rushed out, desperate, gesturing to his little brother next to him. He clearly feels responsible for his little brother, probably more of a parent than a sibling to him.

“Okay okay, I get that. You’re in a tough spot, but we can totally fix this!” the Spider-man said in an attempt to be comforting because they can’t totally fix this, can they? Getting a whole gang to back off will be really hard, but if the dad could disappear maybe these kids could too? Except you need money to disappear which none of the people present really have, he’d need help and he doesn’t really know anyone who could help deal with the Black mask, does he?

“We’re screwed, aren’t we? There’s no way we can pull this off anyways” said the younger one, head down and kicking one of his feet around.

“Hey, don’t be so watered, Toñito! It’ll be fine, you’ll be fine!” said the older to Toñito, apparently, rubbing his back comfortingly, while Toñito nodded slowly in understanding.

“Watered?” Spider-man couldn’t help but ask in his confusion with his eyebrow raised beneath his mask, he’d never heard that term before.

“Agüitado, it means like sad or down.” Said Toñito, understanding came across Spider-man’s face through his mask somehow, who went back to thinking how to take care of the Black Mask gang.

“What can you tell me about Black Mask’s operations and his gang?” he asked more seriously, determined to help the kids in front of him.

“I don’t know much, my papá was the one who worked with them, and we barely saw him, much less talk to him about his work. Toño lives with me in my apartment so I doubt either of us have info. I only know that the gang is actually called False Face Society, but it’s stupid so no one calls them that, but they’re powerful and rich and shit.” Said the older one who still hadn’t introduced himself.

“Hmm… I can do my own research, but in the meantime, you guys need a safe place lo lay low until it’s safe and I’ll take care of the rest.” Said Spider-man reassuringly as the older nodded in agreement, already thinking of places to stay hidden.

“Wait, Andrés, didn’t the Hood have some sorta rivalry against the Black Mask? I swear I have heard somthin’ about that around!” said Toño in a sudden realization, like was trying to remember for a while now.

“Yeah, I remember that he tried to kill him or something like that.” Said Andrés, remembering the way no one would shut up about the fight between the two crime lords.

“That helps! I know him so I can just contact him and if he really hates the guy that much, he can totally help!” Spider- man said excitedly. The three talked a little more in the alley, talking about possible safe places, the vigilante giving them advice about staying hidden and the other two thanking him for his help.

“That is what I’m here for, don’t worry 'bout it.” Said spider-man in response and gave them the number to his burner phone so that they could contact him should they ever need his help again. They said their goodbyes, going about their separate ways with the brothers promising to contact him when they’re in a safe place, and the spider promising to do his absolute best to solve their problem.

With that, spider-man hears a call for help nearby and he swings swiftly on his way to help someone else.

–🕸️–

It turns out that his Spidey-sense didn’t warn him of a bad feeling or bad intentions in the city because technically, there weren’t any. The bats and birds are apparently chasing him with good intentions and, while Peter was aware of that fact, he also was a little annoyed about having to always be alert and ready to run and now his slight annoyance was growing into full irritation as he’s looking at Red Hood, who is currently applying pressure on his gaping knife wound caused by a bad guy taking advantage of the little Robin persecuting him and throwing a big knife at him. At the time, he had to make a choice between dodging little sword Robin or the bad guy’s knife, he successfully avoided Robin’s katana but unsuccessfully avoided the bad guy’s knife, you win some, you lose some, he guesses.

He’d managed to swing away after knocking out the bad guy, avoiding an angry Robin. The knife was still in him, sticking out of his gut as he swung through the city, the only place he could think to go to was Crime alley, no one would bother him there and he could find a nice, abandoned building to pass out in until his enhanced healing decided to save him from his imminent death until a later date.

By the time he was entering the Crime Alley area, he was starting to feel a little dizzy, like that time he’d accidentally taken one too many ibuprofen in an attempt to overcome his jacked-up metabolism, each time he swung it was getting harder and harder to control his direction.

As he finally approached a roof he trusted enough to pass out on it, he was starting to see black spots in his vision, the world slowly starting to become dimmer and dimmer with each swing and finally with one final, excruciating, swing that pulled at the stab wound on his torso he finally made a rough landing on the roof’s gravel. Upon impact, the black spots multiplied, and he staggered to his feet, trying to at least get the knife out of his gut before he started healing around it. He couldn’t really feel the knife in his gut anymore which isn’t a good sign -he’d know, he’s been here before- because it means his body is probably going into shock, that’s a worse sign.

He felt around his abdomen for the knife’s small hilt (why would such a big knife have such a small hilt?!) until he started feeling a wet spot, he followed the damp trail of blood on his suit  until his finger brushed against something solid. He took a few shallow breaths to prepare for what was coming, the skin had already started to heal around the knife, meaning it would be hell to pull the knife out of its snug place between his organs, which would hopefully come out of this ordeal intact or at least not too horrible. With one last puff he started pulling as fast as he could, which wasn’t fast enough at all, his vision went white with agonizing pain, he couldn’t feel writhing on the floor a little and letting out a strangled yelp, the scream dying in his throat.

When he finally recovered from the blinding pain, he’d felt as if a whole night had passed and yet the knife was only halfway out of the bleeding wound; with each second, he was more and more tempted to just let himself die on that roof bled out with a knife sticking out of his abdomen like a fucked-up version of a unicorn that an unmedicated psych ward patient would come up with on the worse of their bad days, but he couldn’t die, he needed to help people, like Toño and Andrés, who are relying on him to solve their problem and contact Red Hood to ask him to help them; and he still wanted to meet his other two possible fathers and learn about his mother, maybe even get a family out of the whole thing.

Alright, time to stop stalling and get on with it before he dropped dead from blood loss and probably septic shock, he didn’t know where that knife had been so that was most probably one more concern in his ever-growing pile of problems. He braced himself, taking as many quick, shallow, breaths before taking hold of the knife once again and starting to pull it out of its ever so rapidly healing flesh pocket, immediately letting out a pained sound. He was losing his strength, making it harder to make an effort to get rid of that pesky knife, he couldn’t help but let out wet sobs as he attempted to get rid of the source of his pain so he could just let himself pass out.

He had to stop for a bit to let himself breathe in all of the air he could after his sobbing left him on the edge of hyperventilating, just as he was about to continue his extraction he felt a rush of dizziness take over his body, the black spots in his vision were back and it seemed as if the sky was falling on him, he just wanted it all to stop. He continued to let out wet sobs, his mask was getting in his way, he wanted it off, he needs to breathe, it's suffocating him, he needs it all to just stop.

He was clawing at his mask, attempting to get it off, out of the way, to let him breathe, when he saw a big red and black blur approach him quickly. The blur was saying something in a gentle voice, but he couldn’t really understand, all he wanted was to take everything off his face.

“Off, take it off!” he managed out between his sobs, the blur seemed to understand, swiftly getting the mask off while he murmured out what Peter guessed were probably supposed to be comforting words. Now that the mask was off, Peter greedily gulped in as much air as he could, the black spots were still there and growing, the pain was getting worse, meaning his healing had probably kicked in, which, not good but at least he wasn’t in shock anymore.

The air was cool on his face, which was wet with tears, blood and probably sweat, he really wanted to just let go and let the approaching darkness take him, he was starting to pass out when he felt hands on his cheeks lightly shaking him to wake him.

“Hey, kid, you gotta stay awake, okay?” the rough voice in front of him said, coaxing him back into a half-conscious state, the blur in front of him cleared slightly and Peter couldn’t help but let out a slight whimper at the imposing figure of none other than the Red Hood, he was just thinking about him, did he summon him somehow?

“It’s okay, kid, you’re okay. See? You’ll be fine” murmured comfortingly as Peter freaked out because it was The Red. Fucking. Hood, who then reached into his mask to take it off (what the fuck?!), revealing… a domino mask covering his eyes and black hair with a white streak near the middle. Now Peter was really confused, he had to take a break from passing out just to process what had just happened, did he always have two masks on?

“You still with me? Kid? Damn you look so young” Red Hood spoke, trying to keep the bleeding-out spider-man awake while he kept applying pressure on his wound around the knife, he’ll have to take him to his nearest safe house to fix him up.

“I was jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout you” Spider-man slurred, looking like he was about to pass out, the knife still sticking out of his stomach by the tip of it, it seemed. He really needed to keep him awake.

“Yeah? You can tell me all about it when I fix you up. C’mon, can you stand?” said the Red Hood, putting his hands on Spider-man's shoulder to try to help him stand.

“Mmm… no no wanna… Did I summon you?” said spider-man with a sleepy voice.

“Sure you did, Spidey” said Red Hood before putting one of his arms under the other red-themed vigilante’s knees and another one under his neck, getting ready to pick him up.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” he didn’t wait for a response, bracing the weight of the other and standing up with him in his arms. Spidey let out a strangled yell, closing his eyes.

“Don’t pass out on me kid, stay awake!” Red Hood started panicking a little and began carefully sprinting towards his nearest safe house, which was luckily only a few blocks away.

“Don’t close your eyes kid, we’re almost there” he tried one last time to keep him from passing out, but it was futile, as spider-man had already fainted.

–🕸️–

He could hear murmuring and smell cooking, good cooking, so there's no way he's back in his dorm or on a rooftop in Crime Alley and now he was starting to get hungry, something he hasn't fully felt since being dumped in Gotham, mostly eating for sheer necessity. His eyes felt like they'd been glued shut and sown or maybe like he was well-rested for once, which was a terrifying thought because he had so much to do the next day. More like later in the day, because it was already about to be 5 a. m. when he said goodbye to Toño and Andrés.

He had to be awake by at least 8 a. m. to finish writing speech, get to the rehearsal at 12 p. m. then meet Wally (possible father #2) and then get ready to go to the graduation gala hosted by the Waynes, which was not within a walking range and there he’d be meeting Richard Grayson (possible father #3, who is Bruce Wayne’s adopted son(?!)). Not only that but apparently Oliver Queen (possible father #1) would also be going to the gala, and he needed to keep them from finding out the real purpose of Peter reaching out to them -Okay Peter, stop spiraling and find out what time it is-.

When he finally squinted his eyes open and the world slowly came into focus, he was looking at a ceiling fan lazily spinning, making a slight squeaking noise that sounded like shrieking to Peter’s superpowered ears. After a few sluggish blinks, it finally occurred to Peter to maybe look around, in doing so he found himself on an unfamiliar couch, surrounded by an unfamiliar living room and a window with an unfamiliar view (it was probably crime alley, judging by some of the buildings he could see). Notice how much the word unfamiliar is being used? It’s because it all is. The realization came to him, he had no clue where or when he was, the sun looked like it was already out, and he had somewhere actually important to be at 12, all of this summed meant:

“Shit!” exclaimed the unmasked (UNMASKED!?) vigilante, quickly sitting up from the couch before wincing at the pain in his gut. Right! The knife, the roof and the-

“Careful, kid, you’ll pull your stitches” said a rough voice as he approached Peter’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. Peter looked to the man, he had blue eyes that were green on the outside, black hair with a white streak in the front and a worried look in his eyes. Wait a minute, Peter’s seen that hair before, he looked the man top to bottom, his outfit was pretty much the same as Red Hood’s except that he was missing the utility belt the mask (masks) his mind seemed to catch up as he came to the realization that this maskless man is Red Hood.

“You’re the Red Hood!” said Peter with wide eyes, still a little loopy from blood loss.

“Yeah, my name is Jason. Figured I saw your face, so it seems a bit unfair if I don’t show you mine, I don’t want you to feel pressured to tell me your name, though” said Red Hood -Jason(!?)- softly, clearly noticing the boy in front of him was sensitive to sound. Peter blanked a little bit; he knew Red Hood’s name! What people can say that they know the Red Hood’s name?! Peter! That’s who!

Right! Red Hood just told him his name so he should probably reciprocate with his own identity. It’s only fair!

“I’m Peter” blurted out the injured vigilante, looking straight into the other man’s eyes with admiration.

“Well Peter, how would you feel about breakfast? I’ll make whatever you’d like, you need lots of food after an injury like that” said Jason with a fond smile. Peter was over the roof with joy, his favorite local vigilante is offering him breakfast!

Just as Peter was about to say yes to his favorite person in all of Gotham, he saw the sun peeking though one of the curtains, his speech! Anxiety twisted in his stomach as Jason looked to him expectantly.

“What time is it?!” there was a sense of urgency and anxiety in his tone. This hadn’t occurred to Jason, what if the kid had some sort of guardian who’d be worried? Or school?

“It’s about to be 8 a. m. Why? You got school or something?” Peter sighed in relief at that, he still had time, he could write the rest of his speech later and he didn’t need to be anywhere until 12. He told the man in front of him as much before accepting his offer of breakfast (waffles), the two unmasked heroes got up from their positions in the living room (a couch, a plant and two bookshelves jammed full of books that look a little old and weapons mounted on the wall).

The older swiftly moved across the fully stocked kitchen, producing the promised waffles as he asked Peter a few questions.

“How old are you actually? You look like a kid” asked the 6’2 man in front of him, the 5’8 vigilante puffed out his chest before answering.

“18” the words were as confident as Peter could muster and Jason raised a single eyebrow in disbelief.

“I won’t feed you if you lie to me.” Said Jason as he dragged the plate with the growing plate of waffles away from lying child.

“17” the elder’s face remained stoic and disbelieving.

“So, you’re 16 then?”

“Yeah…” the younger admitted, looking down at his lap.

“You’re probably in high school then?”

“I’m about to graduate from Gotham Academy in a couple of days” the man looked a little confused at that.

“You some type of genius? Skipping a grade isn’t too hard, but at Gotham Academy… You must be freakishly smart.” He was clearly impressed, and Peter blushed at the man’s words.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that” he rubbed the back of his neck in slight embarrassment, the kitchen then fell into a comfortable silence while Jason kept making waffles, the pile on the plate now starting to lean.

“Breakfast is ready, help yourself to as much as you want, I noticed you were healing a bit faster than a normal person so you must need more food.” He took a seat at the kitchen bar next to Peter after putting some toppings around the surface.

“Thank you so much!” said the teen, piling three of the big waffles on his plate and starting to lather on all types of toppings on them. The room went mostly silent, the sound of eating and cutlery filling the room’s silence.

After the two finished their breakfast spread and Jason cleared up the kitchen and washed the dishes (he wouldn’t let Peter help), they settled down on the couch again, Jason pulled out a first aid kit (that looked more like a whole hockey bag) seemingly out of thin air and Peter lifted the shirt that Jason had lent him (he had also given him sweat pants that the older man had said didn't fit him), giving him access to the overlapping bandages covering his abdomen, Jason made quick work of taking off the bandages and disinfecting the area where the wound was. It had mostly healed already so they had to get the stitches out as soon as they could or else it would be a more painful removal, Jason also did that smoothly and before he knew it Peter was already rebandaged and being told to leave it for the day or until it finished healing.

“I was worried for a solid minute that you wouldn’t make it” said Jason while he gathered up all the used bandages and trash to throw away.

“Thank you for making sure I did make it then”

“Don’t mention it” he replied to Peter with a reassuring smile before his face went serious.

“Seriously, don’t mention it, it’ll ruin my street cred” they both chuckle at this. Peter really did make a friend.

–🕸️–

It was now 9:30 a. m. and Peter was back inside of his stale dorm room after Jason had given him a ride on his motorcycle, which was amazing. They parted a block away from the student residential building (so that Peter could sneak back in unnoticed) with the promise to see each other later.

“Later means later, I don’t want to see you fighting criminals in the Alley until you’re completely healed, okay?” Jason had threatened him, which meant he cared, and Peter wasn’t used to that, so he agreed to wait a day or two before going out as his crime stopping ventures. With that goodbye, they officially parted, Peter sneaked his way back into his dorm’s hall, successfully avoiding all security guards in front of pretty much every entrance, that was until he was walking through his dorm’s hall, just a few steps from his door.

“Hey! You! Parker! Stop right there!” it was a security guard, or more like the security guard because this guy seemed to always be looking Peters way when it came to ‘security threats’ and so.

“Yes, Mr. Jefferson?” He gave him the best possible innocent, wide-eyed look he could muster.

“Where are you coming from?!” the mustached man said confrontationally.

“Just stretching my legs in the hall, dorm’s too small for that” he said, starting to swing around his arms like he was stretching. The guard looked him up and down, probably looking for evidence that Peter was lying, which Peter was, but the man seemed none the wiser and just harrumphed and walked the other way.

When the man was no longer within normal human hearing range, Peter let out a sigh of relief and went to his door, his eyes widened when he noticed that the door wasn’t locked, which was a relief because he forgot his key somewhere, but it was mostly worrying because Peter always left his dorm room locked (except for the window).

Being a superpowered individual, Peter could hear inside of the dorm and was met with not enough information, so he did the next logical thing, he burst into the dorm, ready for a fight only to be met with…

“STEPHANIE!” he couldn’t help but yell, how did she even get in his dorm?!