2
2
Peter was mad, but not as mad as Beck. Beck was fuming for what felt like no reason at all.
“Why should we pay for your phone if you’re not even going to use it?” He spat.
Caroline was gone. Friday’s are her Girls’ Nights.
“If you listened to me at all, you would’ve payed more attention and known where I was,” Peter fired back. He felt sick. “You could’ve contacted Mr. Stark.”
A laugh pushed out of Beck’s chest. “You think that asshole let me have his number?”
Caroline has it, Peter wanted to say, and anger filled up his lungs. But instead his mind was taken aback. It was unusual for Beck to act like this. Sure, he and Caroline were an odd couple, but this was totally new behavior.
“Mr. Stark’s not an” – Peter stumbled with the next word, unsure if he should say it under Beck’s blazing stare – “asshole. He –“
“He what, Peter?” Beck’s voice was full of hate and Peter didn’t know if it was for him or Tony Stark. “He takes care of you? Makes you feel like you’re doing good work with an internship? That’s just free labor. He doesn’t care.”
Unwelcomed chills slid down Peter’s back as he could hear the voice of Adrian Toomes say something similar.
“You know who cares, Pete? Me and my wife. We give you food, a bed, a family!”
Because Peter lost a bed. Lost his means of food. Lost his family. God, he missed Ben calling him Pete. His mind wanted for the scene around him to melt away so badly that it did. His memory slotted in Ben scolding him for going out late after he got the bite instead of the bizarre argument happening with Beck. Instead of hateful spewing, Peter heard Ben’s voice – stern but kind from worry.
“Hey,” Beck snapped his fingers at Peter like a child, “Are you listening to me?”
Peter felt it coming before Beck has even begun to raise his hand. His nerves set off like a lit match dropped back into the matchbox. He knew he couldn’t stop it despite having the strength of two Captain Americas. He had an identity to protect. He can’t dodge hits like a pro boxer when he’s supposed to be a 15 – soon to be 16 – year old nerd.
So the back of a hand smacked him across his cheek bone. The wedding band on Beck’s finger made the strike sting more than Peter thought it would. He staggered back a few steps, bumping into the back of the couch. He clutched the too-fancy upholstery chosen by Caroline for support with one hand while the other clutched his zygomatic. Even though he had seen it coming, he was still in shock. How the fuck is this guy a foster parent?
Beck stood with his open hand, no remorse. No shock. Nothing besides a slight look as if eagerly expecting Peter’s retaliation. Peter’s shock climbed multiple levels. For one, Beck slapped harder than expected. Like knock-out hard for a lot of other teenagers Peter’s size.
Peter watched Beck’s expression finally tune into an emotion, but it was still hard to read. The tension in the atmosphere was starting to fizzle out into something hollow.
“I – I’m uh, I’m sorry, Peter.” Beck said. He seemed unstable, externally and internally. “I think it’s best if you – if you go to your room.”
Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He walked quickly past Beck and towards the hallway.
“And Peter?” Peter stopped and reluctantly looked back at Beck. “Not a word to Caroline.” There was a threat hidden behind Beck’s words and Peter didn’t want to stick around to unravel it. He didn’t want to hear another word out of Beck’s mouth.
He fled to his room, shut the door, and locked it for good measure. He stood there for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to cry or shout and scream. His brain was fried and he felt frazzled from the surprise. The residual buzz of his spidersense made him jittery. All he really wanted to do was lie down and sleep all of it off. This wasn’t his usual situation. Muggings are. People like The Vulture are. Mysterio is. Hell, even aliens are. But what just happened is a situation in an entirely different realm.
He breathes hard for a moment, tenderly touching his cheek. He steps into some sweatpants and found the MIT crew neck Tony bought him after he had saved the plane. Sleep was hanging all around him as he curled up in bed, but he was restless thinking over and over again:
What the hell?
What the hell?
What the hell?
*
The weekend passed quietly. Peter kept to himself. He was able to go to Ned’s place to finish up their science project and when Ned asked about the bruise on his cheek, Peter easily dismissed it as a slap-happy mugger he ran into on patrol. Monday brought Peter relief – school becoming a vacation compared to the house he left that morning.
*
“I don’t want to hear about it,” MJ groaned as Peter and Ned discussed their science project in a self-crafted cryptic way, “It makes me sad how nerdy you two are.” She had her head propped up in her hand, shoulder leaning into the white cafeteria wall.
“If you don’t want to hear about the Computerized Quantum Physics Musical Mayhem Project then you can sit somewhere else,” Ned said into his sandwich.
MJ looked at Ned with unimpressed disbelief. “That’s the name?”
“The working title,” Ned replied confidently.
“What does it even do?” MJ asked.
“Thought you didn’t want to hear about it,” Peter said with a grin, feeling just the slightest bit like Tony.
“I don’t.”
Ned offer the remaining fourth of his sandwich and bag of chips to Peter who had already eaten his meal but Peter declined. However, 6 hours later he was regretting his unknowing foolishness.
It was dinner time. Him, Beck, and Caroline at the table. Dinner was more or less routine despite the incident of Friday. On the outside, nothing had changed. Peter was good at putting Beck out of his mind. This dinner seemed like no exception, until Peter tried to dig into his usual plate of seconds.
“What are you doing?” Beck asked, fork hitting his plate as if demanding the room to go silent, and it did.
“What?” Peter said, genuinely confused as his hand froze in the air with a spoonful of rice.
“Haven’t you had enough?” Beck said, voice accusing.
“Beck,” Caroline said meekly, watching the scene with wide eyes.
“Carol, please,” Beck said off to the side before attacking Peter again, “I mean, I understand you are a growing kid but, Pete, this is ridiculous.”
Peter looked at the rice in front of him. There was so much there, and he was only halfway to satisfying his superhuman appetite.
“You’ve had enough.”
“Beck, what are you talking about?” Caroline whispered like the hiss of a teapot.
Beck shook his head, in control as always, and pointed at Peter with his fork.
“Put the rice back,” Beck said. “You can eat it tomorrow for lunch.”
That was final. Caroline trying to reign in Beck was like a mouse trying to conquer a lion. It made Peter feel horrible. He dumped the rice back in the bowl, not wanting to stoke the fire and risk Caroline getting burned.
Beck nodded, forking the rice on his own plate and resuming eating as if nothing odd had happened. Caroline flashed Peter a sad, apologetic look. But that was it. And dinner went on.
When Peter got in bed that night, his stomach protested. All he could think about was Ned’s sandwich and Tony’s bad cooking.