Brief Interactions
Peter awoke to a stormy day, the wind was blowing furiously against the building, the sound of pressure against his walls made him uneasy, the weak window frames whistled along with the vicious rain splattering on his window and he was sure he'd end up with a leak if this continued.
Dammit.
Getting out of his bed, the small amount of heat he had gathered overnight dissipated from under the thin covers and he was left with goosebumps running up his arms, and shivers wracking his body. His lack of ability to thermo-regulate only made this worse. Peter forced himself up, somehow resisting the temptation to lie back down and cover himself up to regain what little heat he could salvage.
Despite this, he threw open the curtains - not that they kept much light out - and looked at the street that was his view as he rubbed his hands together and blew on them. The clouds were dark, the rain not letting up for a second, if only he could stay in and sleep everything away.
Peter opened his closet as he ran a hand over his face and into his hair whilst cringing at the lack of suitable clothes. He had enough thermal to help him through a day with slightly lower-than-average temperatures but certainly not one as cold as this where the temperature has started to drop as they enter the Fall.
The wad of cash he'd earned the other week was more than Peter knew what to do with and he couldn't bring himself to spend it, even for something as important as a winter jacket, partially because he knew it would mostly go to rent at the end of the month to ensure the landlord didn't get fed up with his late payments. If he put this money towards rent then whatever he had left could go to food and saving up for warmer clothes, Peter thought, trying to think his way through his financial instability.
After a while of staring at his wardrobe he came to one conclusion; the only way he would be able to make it through the day is if he wore the Spider-Man costume under his clothes.
Spider-Man's suit was made to keep him warm in cold temperatures as he didn't have anything on underneath or on top of it which make it perfect for heating him up around the room when the boiler wasn't working again but he'd never worn it at either of his jobs for fear of being found out. But now it was pretty much risk this or risk frostbite and Peter chose the former.
And so here he was, five layers in and still feeling the cold in his bones. He wore the suit, a long sleeved polo-neck, thermal trousers, a graphic t-shirt and the heaviest jacket he owned (which had a multitude of problems and was not very heavy at all).
Peter set off out the door with his rucksack in hand after locking his door, though he doubted it would do much if someone actually wanted to get in, and braved the cold. As he walked out the apartment building he saw others walking down the street with little more than an scarf and their usual jacket.
When he reached the Stark Industries building, Peter momentarily wondered if he should change out of the Spider-Man costume in-case one of the tower's many technologies somehow detects it but decided against it, he'd rather face Tony Stark than the natural elements as changing would mean taking off all his clothes in which he was already shivering.
Peter walked into the building, the crucial moment as was hit with hot air being blown on him as he entered the doors and then flooded with the warmth of the room-temperature had him sighing and closing his eyes momentarily.
His ears, nose and fingertips began to grow red and nip as he stalked through the building, mind ablaze with worst-case scenarios. And maybe maybe he'd manifested something because when he walked into his the intern's breakroom there was his boss standing right next to his cubby.
"Ah, Peter, just the man I wanted to see," the older man smiled, opening his arms wide. Peter's stomach dropped, he felt the nothingness in his stomach churn and despite that, he approached, already slinging his backpack off his shoulder. He wore a white dress shirt, a grey tie, matching grey dress trousers, dress shoes and an unbelievable amount of hair gel. Usually the man was seen around labs as a flurry of white lab coats, black trousers and steel-toed boots, hurrying from one experiment to the next. So for him to be this dressed up was quite unusual, to say the least.
"Hey... sir!" Peter replied awkwardly, weakly bringing his (shaking) arms up, mimicking the older man. The Head of the Interns manoeuvred one arm around Peter's back, swiftly turning Peter towards the door he'd entered from, his bag returning to the opposite shoulder of the man as they left the room, making their way through the building.
"Right, well Peter, I was given the opportunity to put one of my interns forward to assist in a minor-major project, which I would like to extend to you! You're my star intern, the most capable, smartest and easiest to work with. I know you've unofficially helped out on a few - arguably more complicated - projects but this'll be great for your CV, especially when - sorry, if - you decide to apply for a job here at Stark Industries, or other places, of course,"
"Uhh... sorry sir but do you mean I'll get to make my own tech?" Peter was confused - he was being offered to work on a project? Interns weren’t given these sorts of opportunities - that he’d heard of, at least. He had thought he was getting a write-up or a suspension - or being fired!
"Hah! Oh no, no, no, you'll be doing more watching and providing tools, if I'm being honest, but maybe they'll let you work up to that," Peter internally deflated ever so slightly, still overjoyed to be offered this opportunity. His trivial disappointment may have been displayed on his face, too, as the older man continued, "How about I get you some lab time, hm? During lunch or so?"
"That would be awesome!- I mean, that would be very nice of you, Sir," Peter's face heat up in embarrassment, questions piling up in his head.
"Good, because you will be starting immediately," Peter felt his eyes practically bulge as he bit his tongue to stop the snarky questions from spilling - that's so unlike you, what's gotten into you, Parker. He scolded himself, instead returning the smile of his boss.
"This is where I leave you, Mr Parker,"
"Thanks again, Sir" and with that, the man walked down the corridor and turned the corner.
Peter sighed, turning to the double doors he'd been left outside of. He messed with his hair, attempting to make it sit at least half-decently in an effort to make whichever scientist or engineers first impression of him mediocre at best.
Due to having absolutely no information, Peter obviously had zero clue what he was walking in on, but when he said he’d rather face Tony Stark than the elements, this is NOT what he meant.
Said Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist was currently in conversation with another man, presumably who Peter would be working under, and to say Peter froze would be an understatement.
His mouth was left agape as he stared at the Owner of Stark Industries - well, “Chairman” but it was his name on the building - as he stood not 10 steps away from Peter.
Their conversation ended abruptly as he was noticed by both older men, their questioning glances lasting a second before Peter’s direct superior exclaimed, “Ah! You must be Peter, yes? The Intern?”
Just his Parker Luck that he'd walk in on Tony Freaking Stark the one day he decided to wear his suit to his internship.
“Yes, uh, sorry for interrupting, I didn’t realise that uhm, that you would be talking to… someone? Sorry,”
Peter's thoughts were filled with a mantra of Don't notice. Don't notice. Don't notice.
“Well then, I thinks this is a sign that I should be going now, I can practically hear Pepper calling me,”
And it seems that for once whatever controls his Parker Luck took pity on this one tiny wish.
“Ah, yes, well do give her my best,” the man turned to Peter, who was still star-struck (and terrified) as he watched Mr Stark leave, after a moment’s pause in which the billionaire stopped and looked him up and down, an unfamiliar look on his face.
“Well, Peter, let me introduce myself-”
As he left his Internship that day, Peter’s head was still far above in the clouds from the combination of being so close to Tony Stark (whilst in his Spider-Man suit no less!) and getting to help on a professional’s project - although minor - was exciting in and of itself, especially since the man was open to questions and conversation with Peter and listened to his input!
He practically wandered his way towards the bar - realising midway there that he had completely forgotten about going on patrol as he was several hours too early - and changed in an ally, shook himself back to reality and took off towards the skies.
The change in persona quickly put him in the right mindset, focusing on his surroundings, looking for trouble. The cold, whilst being rather distracting, was not impossible to ignore as he swung from the tall buildings - if he swung lower than usual then that’s his business.
Patrol went rather peacefully for the first hour or two, helping the elderly carry their shopping, stopping lone kids from wandering onto roads following a stray ball, the like - until he hears some rather aggressive yelling.
Spider-Man swings over to scout what the cause of the yelling is - maybe a fighting couple or a drug deal got out of hand?
The sight is neither, nor any of his other ideas, instead he meets a group of people in masks, six of them, only two of which are talking, the others murmuring amongst eachother.
“I told you that I’m not doing it there-“
“Come on what is anyone gonna do we have guns, moron!”
“Are you stupid! There’s multiple mutant-freaks hanging around this area and you wanna mess with their TURF?!”
“So what they’re like never out at this time-“
“So you’re gonna risk it?!”
“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna risk it!”
Spider-Man had heard enough.
Jumping down into the ally, he gave them a moment to notice him. Two of them who kept nervously looking around spotted him immediately, turning to one another and pointing the vigilante out to the most muscled of the group. The two who had been fighting finally noticed him,
“Oh fuck- look”
“I fucking told you so-“
“Shut the fuck up!- there’s five of us, and we have guns, shoothim!”
That seemed to wise up the rest of them, though a few of them had yet to load their guns, though three of them shot at him almost simultaneously, one who was shaking horribly missed by a long-shot.
Spider-Man easily dodged the first few shots, leaping into the air above them as the rest of them finished reloading their guns, one of them had taken a minute longer, also seemingly nervous in facing Spider-Man.
He swung down and kicked a gun from one criminal’s hand, who swore and ducked as Spider-Man let go of his web, unknowingly landing near the bulkier man.
He went to hit him with the butt of his gun but his Spidey-Sense alerted him as he realised the man’s presence behind him, twisting out of the way, the gun hit his side instead of the back of his neck - luckily the opposite side than his already bruised ribs.
He dropped to the floor and swept a leg under the man, stumbling as he lost his footing and falling, dropping the gun in the process which went skittering under a dumpster. Spider-Man turned and faced the one who so strongly wanted to go through with whatever their little plan was, his eyes (the only visible facial feature) were screwed up in indignation, hoisting his gun up, he repeatedly shot for the spider.
Whilst he did a good job of dodging, it got more difficult as he got nearer the man, sending his own webs in an effort to put him off his aim. As he got close enough, he webbed at the man’s face and hands, grabbing the bottom of the gun and using his natural strength to force the barrel upwards to point towards the sky before wrenching it out of his hands entirely, webbing it to the wall and the man’s feet to the concrete.
Narrowly missing a shot to his back, the first man had retrieved his gun - the other in the argument amongst the criminals - and gave Spider-Man but barely a second before he shot again. First webbing his feet, he shot webs towards his shoulders so web them to the wall his back was against, he grabbed the gun from his hand, webbing another gun to the concrete, right as a fist collided with his side, the bulky man had finally gotten up and had seemingly given up on getting his gun back from the look of the skewed dumpster.
While his Spidey-Sense had alerted him, it seems he mistook it for the man he had just webbed up. Cursing himself, Spider-Man ducked away from the next punch thrown his way, using his webs to gain height, he crouched against a wall just out of the tall man’s reach. He swung down, kicking the man in the side as he reached the other side of the ally, pushing off the wall to project himself toward the buff criminal who was caught off-guard - swinging for Spider-Man again. He took the blow to his side, this time being his sensitive ribs, which made him cringe in pain. The man managed to grab the spider by the wrist and turned, roughly flipping Spider-Man over his shoulder, making his back crash into the ground and twisting his shoulder, as the man went to kick him in the head, he rolled out the way - despite the pain - and got up.
He couldn’t show the blow did him any damage so he resisted the urge to brush a hand against his side.
Instead turning to the two- actually just the one very nervous man, it seems one had made a run for it whilst he was distracted - the man’s hands shook violently as he raised his gun.
To say the last man was easy to deal with is an understatement, he simply held his hand out and the man handed over the gun, and sat down to be webbed to the wall and ground. How kind.
On his way to the Hellhouse, he realised he hadn’t eaten that day and was starving. Hopefully Weasel would have something he could watch even just a cereal bar.
“Hey Weasel,” even his voice sounds tired.
“Damn, you look like shit, Ferret,” Weasel was sitting at the bar, judgingly looking him up and down, “You alright, there?”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine - haven’t got a chance to eat today though-“
Weasel cut him off, “I’ve got like chips in the back, and cereal bars, take what you want - other than my Haribo, that’s mine,”
“Thanks so much, Weasel,” Ferret practically flew into the back, grateful beyond words for Weasel’s snacking habits as he doubts he would have been able to make it through his shift without anything to eat.
He hung his backpack in it’s usual spot, and searched the cupboards for the food, quickly finding it.
Weasel has quite the mound of food, from crisps, cereal bars and Haribo as he had said to chocolate, popcorn, cookies and more extremely sugary off-brand sweets.
Ferret helped himself to a packet of crisps, some of those off-brand sweets and a cereal bar, hoping he wasn’t taking too much.
He sat on one of the two bean-bags in the back and gorged on the cereal bar first. Weasel came to check on him after a minute, he was almost finished eating the last of the snacks.
“Is that all you took?” Weasel looked uneasy, most likely due to his stash being raided.
“Oh, uh, no I took some crisps and a cereal bar,”
“That is not enough, Jesus,” Ferret rubbed at the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses, “You looked like you were about to pass out when you came in and I cannot deal with that today, okay?” He pointed at Peter and then to the snack cupboard, “So go eat more, I have plenty - and they're not very filling,” He shook his head as he walked away, murmuring about “Wade might be right, fuuuck…”
Opening the doors to the stash again, Ferret took a bar of chocolate and some more sugary sweets to appease Weasel, taking them to the front to eat.
Later on in his shift, Peter felt marginally better, though his torso still ached with bruises, it wasn’t much of a problem until he needed to waiter. He enjoyed speaking to the patrons, some of which almost commented on his drained appearance, although he reassured them, he noticed a couple extra tips being slipped to him - of course he accepted them, he was doing a job, this is his payment (and he really needs the money).
Everything was going well until he bumped into Deadpool - literally!
His especially bruised side collided with his overly hard muscled torso as he had been carrying a tray of drinks awkwardly in an effort to not have them spill if he did indeed bump into anyone.
Ferret winced at the impact, hissing.
“Oh fuck, sorry Ferret!” The merc’s hands held his biceps, steadying him, “I know I’m pretty strong but I didn’t expect to send you flying!”
“Ah, don’t worry, I was just caught off-guard,” Ferret was still gaining his balance and recovering from the intense pain attacking his side.
“You sure? You cringed pretty hard, there” Deadpool was unusually concerned - and serious, didn’t he usually bounce off the walls?
Do I really look that bad? Ferret wonders as the unnatural normality from the infamous mercenary was beginning to seriously make him question things.
“I’m fine, really!” Ferret pushes away from Deadpool with his free hand, “Anyway, I better get these to their tables!” And scurried off.
Wasn’t Deadpool meant to be the “merc with a mouth” who “never took anything seriously”? He was far too concerned for a little bump - the stark difference between Spider-Man’s interaction and Ferret’s was like a whiplash, it seems his reputation is one for the public.
If Deadpool's eyes followed him for the remainder of his shift then that's the mercenary's business.
Barely 30 minutes later when Ferret returned to the bar, he found Weasel watching him with a concerned look on his face.
“Hey, you alright? Need to sit down for a bit?”
“No, I'm all good, why?”
“Saw you’re collision with Deadpool, he’s like a brick wall, eh?”
“Ha, yeah, gave me a bit of a fright,”
“Yeah cause you look like you hurt something pretty bad, you’re face got all screwed up and shit,”
“Oh, right uh, I just have a sensitive side at the moment - just fell - nothing to worry about!”
“Riiight, well just be careful, yeah?”
“Yep! Also here’s the next round of drink orders..”