“--morning, you are currently receiving a call from Mr. Leeds. Would you like me to pick up for you?”
Peter flopped onto his back, dragging the sheets up over his head and stretching out his arms.
“Hmnph,” he said. “Fwat?”
“Shall I connect Mr. Leeds’ call?” asked JARVIS.
Peter scrunched his face, rolling onto his side again. “Ned’s… calling? Wha… Whatime is it?”
“It is four twenty-three A.M.”
Peter took a moment to process that, then flailed his way upright, rubbing aggressively at his eyes.
“Yeah, pick up the call please, sorry!”
“Not a problem,” JARVIS said. There was a click, and then Ned’s voice filled the room.
“Sorry, dude. Did I wake you up?”
“No, it’s fine! Is everything okay? Are you alright?”
Ned didn’t reply.
“Ned? Where are you?” Peter stumbled out of bed, tripping on yesterday’s jeans and grabbing his desk to stay upright. “Are you in danger? Hang on, I’m-”
“No no no, I’m fine. I’m at home.”
Peter exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Sorry to worry you.”
“No, you’re good!” Peter made his way back to his bed and sat down. “But seriously, is everything okay?”
There was a pause before Ned spoke. “I just… I had this dream. And it kinda sucked. And JARVIS said you wouldn’t mind if I called you, so… yeah.”
Peter made a sympathetic sound. “I’m sorry, dude. That sucks. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Well… I don’t want to be depressing.”
“Everyone has the right to be depressing sometimes,” Peter replied. “I contribute plenty of depression to my immediate surroundings.”
“No you don’t, shut up,” Ned said fondly. “But seriously, are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course I don’t.”
“Okay. Well, so, I don’t really remember how it started, but I remember being behind a computer. And you were doing something stupidly heroic like you always are, and I was being your guy in the chair, and I told you that it was fine to go ahead because my cameras didn’t show the guys with freaking machine guns, and it really wasn’t fine, like, at all because of the guys with machine guns, and you… um… yeah. And…” Ned’s voice grew small. “And it was all my fault.”
Peter leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and letting his head fall into his hands. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Ned wasn’t supposed to get nightmares from being his friend.
“Sorry,” Ned whispered.
“Dude, no. You have nothing to apologize for. I should apologize to you for getting you involved… This is my fault, really.”
“Hey man, no it’s not. I made the choice to be your guy in the chair. I was pretty persistent.”
Peter choked out a laugh. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”
Ned snorted softly, but didn’t reply. For a long minute, they were quiet. The faint crackle of the phone line made the air feel heavy. Peter took in a big breath, then released it slowly.
“That won’t happen,” he said.
“But… what if it did?”
“It wouldn’t be your fault at all. Nobody would blame you ‘cause they would know that you did the best you could.”
“I would blame me.”
“I wouldn’t want you to.”
The line went quiet again, save for an almost inaudible sniffling sound from Ned. Peter pressed his face harder into his palms. After a moment, he cleared his throat.
“Instead of theorizing about my death, do you wanna get breakfast?”
“Yeah, okay,” Ned replied, sounding hoarse.
“How about the IHOP by your place? They’ll be open.”
“Okay,” Ned said again.
“Okay. I’ll see you in fifteen.”
“See you.”
Peter lifted his head, stretching his elbows back and letting his mouth gape open in a big yawn.
“Wha’ time is it again, JARVIS?”
“Four-thirty A.M.”
“Is anyone else awake?”
“Ms. Romanova, Captain Rogers, and Sir are all awake. Ms. Romanova is waiting for you in the elevator.”
Peter wrinkled his brow as he pulled a shirt over his head. “How does she know I’m going out?”
There was a pause, then, “She has asked me to remind you that you’re not the only spider in the building.”
Peter snorted, stepping into a pair of sweats. “Okay, tell her I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Certainly.”
Peter grabbed two loose socks from his dresser and slipped them on before jamming his feet into his shoes. He pocketed his phone and his wallet, glanced around his room, and headed out into the hallway. The elevator doors were open; inside, Natasha stood waiting for him.
“The IHOP by his place?” she confirmed as he reached her.
“Yeah. I said I’d be there in fifteen… Do you mind running?”
“Nope.”
“Cool beans,” Peter said.
Natasha shook her head. “I’ve never understood that expression.”
“I don’t think it really means anything. I mean, it doesn’t make sense, does it? Warm beans are definitely better than cool beans.”
“Definitely,” Natasha said with a faint smile.
The elevator doors slid open, and the two of them swept across the lobby. Once outside, they shook off the brisk early-morning air and fell into step at a run. The sky was black, but the sidewalk was illuminated by street lamps, restaurant signs, and billboards. The city felt oddly quiet, aside from the echoing thuds of their feet hitting the concrete.
“It’s a different world,” Natasha commented, not short of breath in the least.
Peter jerked his head in a nod of agreement. “It’s weird. But it’s kind of nice, running when nobody’s really out.”
“So that nobody stares at you for being freakishly fast?” Natasha asked.
“Oh, sorry! Should I slow down?”
Natasha looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m struggling?”
“No!” Peter squeaked.
Natasha tilted her head to the sky and laughed. Peter’s jaw gaped.
“Look where you’re going, паучонок.”
Peter snapped his eyes back to his path just in time to vault over a parking meter pay station.
“What the fuck?!” someone shouted from the other side of the street. “Dude, are you Spider-Man or some shit?”
“Um, no!” Peter called, ducking to Natasha’s other side.
Natasha snickered, but picked up the pace as they beat a hasty retreat. They ran in silence for a few minutes before Natasha spoke again. “Will Ned mind if I get breakfast with you guys?”
“Nah. He thinks you’re great. It’ll probably cheer him up, actually.”
Natasha’s lips flitted into a brief smile before returning to neutral. “Is he alright?”
“He had a nightmare about me dying.”
“That sucks.”
Peter let out a sharp, bitter exhale. “Yeah.”
They rounded a corner abruptly, surprising a man who was sitting against the side of the buildings.
“Fuck off!” he shouted as they sped past.
“Sorry!!” Peter called over his shoulder. He looked back to Natasha. “Oops.”
“It happens,” she replied.
“Yeah… I feel kinda bad, though. Poor guy.”
Peter lifted his chin; IHOP’s blue awning and bright sign was visible in the distance. As they drew steadily closer, they could see Ned waiting outside, his shoulders high and his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked up as they approached, offering them a faint smile.
“Hey,” Peter said, skidding to a stop and tossing an arm around him.
“Hey.” Ned’s shoulders loosened.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Natasha asked.
Ned shook his head quickly. “Sorry if I didn’t seem excited to see you. I am, I promise. It’s just...”
“I understand. Let’s go in.”
The three of them made their way through the doors; the host behind the counter looked up and greeted them.
“Three?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Natasha.
“Follow me, please.”
The host led them to a booth, where Natasha sat down facing the door and Peter and Ned slid in across from her.
“Can I start you off with anything to drink?” the host asked, handing them each a menu.
“Just water for me, please,” said Natasha. “Boys?”
“Um, could I have milk, please?” Ned asked.
“Milk,” the host echoed, then looked to Peter.
“I’ll have orange juice, please.”
“A water, milk, and an OJ. I’ll be right back with those.”
“Thank you,” Natasha said.
The host walked away, leaving the three of them sitting silently. Natasha busied herself removing the paper from around her napkin, which she placed on her lap.
“Doing alright?” Peter asked, bumping Ned’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Ned said quietly. “It was just a dream. I’m fine.”
“I have dreams like that a lot too,” Peter admitted. “It really sucks.”
Ned nodded, keeping his eyes on the table.
Natasha leaned back into the booth’s worn faux-leather cushioning. “I dreamed that Peter died too.”
Both Ned and Peter snapped their heads up to look at her.
“Wait, what?” said Peter.
“Really?” Ned asked.
Natasha nodded. “That’s why I was awake.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I-”
“It was unpleasant,” Natasha interrupted, matter-of-fact. “But there’s no need to apologize. You can’t do anything about what I dream about. And if it wasn’t you, it would be Clint, or Steve, or Pepper, or Sam, or Maria, or any of the others.”
Ned nodded. “You’re definitely not the problem, dude. I guess it just happens sometimes. And it kind of shook me up, but you’re here, so…”
“Milk and OJ.” The host reappeared, setting the glasses down in front of Peter and Ned. “I’ll be right back with the water.”
“Thank you.”
Peter and Ned sipped at their drinks. The host was back in less than a minute, placing Natasha’s water in front of her.
“Do you boys know what you want?” she asked.
Ned nodded. Peter looked down at his menu.
“You guys go first,” he said.
Natasha turned back to the host. “I’ll have the waffles combo with scrambled eggs and sausage, please.”
The host scribbled down her order and looked to Ned.
“Could I please have the strawberry banana French toast?”
The host dipped his head. “Strawberry banana French toast,” he mumbled as he noted it down.
Peter closed his menu. “Um, I’ll have the double blueberry pancakes, and… uh, a side of hash browns, please.”
The host finished writing, then gathered their menus and headed towards the kitchen. Peter heard a faint buzz; Natasha frowned and pulled out her phone. Her face softened upon reading the new message.
“Barnes wants to know you two are safe.” She switched to camera mode and gestured the boys together. “Squish in and think of something nice. Puppies. Cookies. Warm sweaters.”
Peter and Ned broke into smiles; Natasha snapped a picture.
“Perfect.” She sent it to Bucky and tucked her phone away.
“Bucky’s so nice,” Ned said.
Peter’s eyes crinkled happily. “Yeah, he’s awesome.”
“And of course you’re nice too, Ms. Natasha!” Ned added with haste.
Natasha’s lips twitched. “You can really just call me Nat.”
“Really?! Are you sure?”
“You’re a friend.”
“Okay!” Ned squeaked. “Thanks, Nat!”
Natasha reached across the table and patted his shoulder. Her phone buzzed again; she opened the message and exhaled in amusement. She slid her phone across the table, showing the boys a dimly lit selfie of Bucky holding up a peace sign with Steve slumped awkwardly across their couch in the background, sound asleep with his mouth hanging open. The picture was captioned “he said he wasn’t tired.”
Peter and Ned snickered. Natasha took the phone back, typing up a quick message.
“What are you saying?” Ned asked.
“That Steve reminds me of an actual child sometimes,” Natasha replied. She typed another message, then set her phone down. “If we’re lucky, we should be receiving a better picture soon.”
“Better how?” Peter asked, taking a drink of his orange juice.
Natasha shrugged. “Oh, you know. Funnier.”
“Funnier,” Ned mused. “Like, an embarrassing close-up?”
“Better,” said Natasha.
Peter scrunched his brow. “Better…”
Natasha’s phone vibrated, and she unlocked it immediately.
“Is it good?” Ned asked, taking a sip of milk.
Natasha grinned, holding up the phone. On the screen was a somewhat blurry picture of Steve falling off the couch, his eyes wide and his limbs mid-flail. The caption was “I asked Building JARVIS to play heavy metal.” Peter let out a wheeze, gripping the edge of the table as his shoulders shook mirthfully. Milk came out of Ned’s nose; his eyes watered with laughter. Another picture came through; this one was of Steve lying on the ground, and arm thrown over his eyes, clearly pouting. “He said I’m a jerk and he’s going back to sleep.”
“Iconic,” Ned said, still coughing a little.
“This is the content we all deserve,” Peter agreed with a grin.
Natasha relayed this to Bucky, who sent back another picture, this one of himself giving the camera a small smile and a thumbs-up.