Queit Hours
Michelle followed the billionaire to the elevator and stayed quiet, only looking up when Friday announced that they’d come to the penthouse. Michelle blinked and glanced towards Tony, a slight frown on her face.
He wasn’t looking at her though and continued on, walking like he owned the place, which he did—but you have to give off a certain vibe to seem that in control. He marched up to the stoves and counters, mouthing off to the weird looking bot on the counter that was in the middle of stirring a large bowl.
“So, what’s for breakfast today, Mork-Mork? Ooohhh, waffles—yum. Oh, and is that strawberries? And whipped cream? What’s the occasion?”
Mork-Mork perked up slightly and beeped at him. It was circular but it seemed like every part of it was an arm of some sort. Three of them were slightly uncurled to raise itself up, so it’s surprisingly human-like hand could stir the batter it had already made. Looking at it, Michelle saw that it only had two ‘hands’ and everything else were metal poles with clamps. It beeped again and twisted to look at Michelle, who was hovering by the elevator doors.
The arm not stirring the batter waved quickly at her, Mork-Mork beeping excitedly, making noises that reminded her of R2-D2. Not knowing what else to do, Michelle waved back at it, although much slower and less enthusiastically. Apparently satisfied with the greeting, the bot got back to cooking.
When she joined Tony around the island, he looked at her and blinked. “Shit, I forgot to ask you—are you allergic to anything? Eggs? Milk? Strawberries?”
Michelle shook her head, secretly impressed that he even thought to ask that. “No, I’m okay.”
“Right, good.” He nodded sharply, but not in a cutting way, he just moved in quick little movements. He drummed his hands on the polished marble counter. “Oh, right! Dishes,” he suddenly said and bustled over to a set of white cupboards. As he got out clean plates with little blue flowers on them, Michelle wondered for a moment if she should help, then realized she had no idea where anything was and just sat quietly while he moved around. Soon enough, he’d set places for two, while Michelle concealed her surprise that the billionaire was doing something as mundane as setting a table.
It wasn’t like she thought he couldn’t do it, just expected him to hand the job off to someone else. She was impressed that he didn’t. But then again, judging from what she’d heard from Peter, he was probably trying to keep himself busy, so he wasn’t working himself up into a panic. Looking at the slight tremor in his hands, she was pretty sure that was the case.
Satisfied with her conclusion, Michelle looked back to watch Mork-Mork as it filled the waffle iron. Looking passed it for a moment, her eyes caught on something on the counter. Slipping off her stool, she moved to it, catching Tony’s attention. “What are you doing?”
“Making a decent pot of coffee,” she told him and popped the lid up to see if there was a used filter in it. Surprisingly, there wasn’t.
“Oh, good idea—the grounds are in that jar, the medium one, and beside it are the filters.”
Michelle nodded and reached for them. As she busied herself with putting the filter in and measuring the right amount of grounds, Tony pulled out a couple of mugs and placed them beside the glasses.
As the coffee was coming to a brew, Mork-Mork beeped highly, getting her attention. Looking over, she saw the little bot ‘standing’ on the counter, beside the plate that were topped with waffles. Between the two plates there was a bottle of syrup and two bowls, one filled with cut strawberries, while the other was topped with whipped cream. It seemed to stand a little taller when she looked at it.
It looked so proud of itself. She couldn’t resist the way her lips twitched. “Thank you—it looks delicious,” she told it, genuinely smiling.
“You go eat. I can finish the coffee,” Tony butted in, drawing her attention. She was surprised to see him beaming at her, a happy overtone to his face that made him look softer. She stared at him for a moment, taken aback. Sure, she’d heard from Peter how caring and warm the man could be, but she was surprised, admitting she’d let his social standing and past colour her view of him.
Now she just gave him a quiet nod and went over to the bar stools around the counter, slipping onto one. Mork-Mork watched her for a moment and her lips twitched a little higher—it looked like a puppy, excited to see if she liked it or not. Settling in her seat, she pointed to the bowl of cut fruit. “Could you pass that to me please?”
She didn’t know why she asked Mork-Mork that, the bowl was fully within her reach, but something compelled her to let the little bot be useful. Maybe it was her time around Peter. e tended to gush about how cute Dumb-E and his brothers could be. Wait, his other bots were male, and by its name, she assumed that this one was, too.
She was rewarded with Mork-Mork perking up and grabbing the bowl and handing it to her. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. She bit her lip, although it did nothing to stop the wide grin from spreading over her face. As he held the bowl, Michelle scooped some strawberry slices onto her steaming waffles. When she put the spoon back into the bowl, the bot took it away while she poured syrup over her plate.
Finally tasting the meal, she dipped her head. “Not bad.”
Mork-Mork beeped and retracted his arms, becoming a perfect sphere to roll over to the other end of the island, coming to a stop on a little stand. From how it lit up the moment Mork-Mork settled on it, she figured that he went back to his charging station.
“Peter helped make him.” Michelle blinked at Tony’s soft confession, it tearing her gaze from the now sleeping bot. Turning back to her, he set a mug down in front of her. Sitting down across from her, he nudged another container. “Here’s the sugar if you want any. Cream’s in the fridge.”
“I don’t…” Michelle started, then an image of Peter curling his lip at the bitter smell of coffee made her pause. He was always drinking or eating things filled with sugar, since his metabolism processed it too quickly. Wordlessly, she grabbed the small jar and heaped a spoonful into the mug, stirring harshly. She was thankful that nothing spilled.
Tony didn’t comment, just sipping at his drink, glancing back at Mork-Mork.
Michelle drank some of her own cup, her face twisting a little at the sweetness. She swallowed, taking a small comfort in the sugar, despite not agreeing with the addition. “Who named him?”
Tony’s lips turned up into a smirk. “Unanimous agreement. I suggested it, though.”
She snorted. “Figured. It’s from the Muppets, right?”
His eyes narrowed. “Is that a jab at my age? I’ll have you know, Peter knew exactly what I was referencing.”
“Your argument is invalid,” she informed him cooly. “His favorite movie is Star Wars.”
“You say that,” he pointed out blandly, “but you recognized it, too.”
Michelle raised a brow. “I’m best friends with two dorks. They’ve subjected me to many old things.”
“It’s not that old,” he grumbled, his mouth twisting, and she smirked, forking a mouthful of waffles into her mouth.
They continued breakfast, bantering back and forth. Michelle found that she was actually enjoying her time with the billionaire. Sure, he was arrogant and argumentative, and a little ignorant to some of her ideals, but she found herself grinning at his befuddled looks.
They were just discussing if his company was doing enough for the planet when Banner stumbled in. Both of them stopped and snapped their eyes to the dishevelled doctor. Tony got to his feet and started towards him, but he waved a hand at him. “Don’t. He’s just sleeping. It’s okay to leave him alone for a bit. Plus, Friday is watching him.”
Tony nodded but got up anyway, grabbing a plate for him, too. Banner settled into the spot beside Tony’s and murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ when his friend placed a full plate in front of him. He looked like he wanted to give Tony a hug when he handed him a mug of coffee.
Once Banner had eaten some, Tony tapped his fingers on the table. “Sooo… any ideas on the chemicals needed to wake him?”
The doctor was in the middle of chewing and just shook his head. “Not yet,” he admitted after swallowing, “but I have a few ideas. I’m going to look at it after this. I have to take some blood, though.” He raised his brows slightly.
Tony waved his unspoken point aside. “May’s already given consent for anything that will save him. She’s also given me permission to choose on her behalf.”
Banner nodded, like he was expecting that and peeked at Michelle. She’d pushed her finished plate to the side and was silently watching them.
“Who are you?” he asked quietly, eyes barely holding hers before flicking down to her hands.
“Michelle,” she told him dryly. “I’m Peter’s friend.”
Banner nodded absently, like he expected that, which he would be stupid not to, considering she was here for Peter. Then his brows lowered into a sort of frown. “Michelle… do you go by something else?”
Michelle’s hands twitched and she looked a little closer at the doctor. His eyes had lifted to hover around her face. His lips twitched downwards thoughtfully. She mirrored him and cocked her head to the side. “What gives you that idea?”
He kept watching her. “As far as I know… Peter has two close friends, but they go by Ned and MJ.”
Ah. Michelle smirked. “That’s my nickname. It’s what my friends call me.”
Tony snorted. “The way Peter tells it, you have to go through hell to earn it.”
Michelle’s lips twitched into a genuine smile. “He does like to blow things out of proportion.”
“Or downplay something that shouldn’t be,” Tony muttered, a little darker. Michelle couldn’t blame him. She was pissed at Peter, too.
Bruce nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s nice to meet you, Michelle. Peter’s talk about you a lot.”
She paused, frowning. “Really?”
Tony snorted. “Oh yeah, the scary but really smart captain of his team? Yup, he’s talked about you.”
Bruce nodded in agreement. “When I have lab time with him, which is rare because you keep hogging him,” Bruce snipped to his friend who just grinned. “He’ll yammer about anything and everything if you let him. How amazing his friends are is a common topic.”
Michelle blinked, gripping her mug a little tighter, not knowing what to say. She bit her lip and looked down before downing the last of her coffee. The superheroes didn’t notice or think too hard on her silence because they went back to chatting as Bruce dug into his breakfast, Tony asking him about possible solutions. She recognized some of the chemicals that they were using, but Peter would have understood more. She sat with them for a moment before gathering up her bag and slipping off her chair, heading for the door that the doctor had come from.
Once out in the hall, she glanced up to the cameras. “Friday? That’s your name, right? Can you guide me to where Peter is?”
“Certainly, Miss Jones,” the AI intoned and lit up the red emergency lights along the wall. “Just follow these and take the first door on the right.”
“Thank you,” Michelle told her and started forwards. As she went, she noticed that the lights flicked off behind her. It didn’t take long to find his room, and she slowly turned the knob of the plain, white door that Friday had shone a light on.
Peter’s room was dim, the lights making his room look warm and soft. He was tucked in the large queen sized bed with his arm out for the IV. His room here was cleaner than the one in Queens, with less stuff in it, but it still had the Peter touch to it. The area around the bed had been obviously cleaned a little to make room for people to move about.
Michelle stepped forwards, slinging her backpack off her shoulder as she went. Reaching his bed, she sat down in the comfy chair that had been placed there, dropping her bag on the floor.
He looked the same. Even though they knew that he wasn’t in any danger, he didn’t magically look healthy. A part of her expected him to, even though it was a silly idea. He was still as unmoving and pale as before. Slowly reaching up, she lifted his arm and let it flop back down. Yup, still out.
Michelle sighed and leaned back in the chair. She rubbed her hands over her face, leaving them pressed against her cheeks. “You scared the shit out of me, loser.” she muttered to him. “You owe me lunch.”
She glanced at him, half hoping that he would wake up, grumbling but eventually agreeing with a sappy smile. A couple moments passed and he didn’t stir. She grimaced and let her hands fall into her lap. She sat without moving, just watching his chest rise and fall. It was a slow process.
After a while, she dug out her sketchbook and art pencils, grabbing a 4B. She wasn’t in the mood for the lightness of the HB graphite, nor the darkness of the higher Bs. Setting the book on her lap, she started a study of him, since he wouldn’t be moving for a while anyway. In the back of her head, she noticed the lights brighten slightly so her pad was easier to see.
His head was half turned towards her, his cheek pressing gently against his pillow. His hair flopped over his scalp, although it looked like someone had tucked a lock behind his ear. Not worried about a time crunch, she took her time sketching him, grabbing her smudge stick out of her bag, so she could shade it right. Thanks to how the lights were set up, Peter didn’t have any harsh shadows across his face. It was nice to draw the soft edges.
She was still working on proper human proportions, so she tried to focus on the shapes that made up his face. The motions of running the pencil over the page was repetitive but calming, allowing her mind to slow and process the morning she’d just gone through. Sometime later—she wasn’t paying attention to the time—she sat back and surveyed her work. Looking at it, and even though she’d drawn it, she was a little unnerved by her work. It was eerily similar to the real boy in front of her, but the slackness of his features done in black and white looked like nothing short of death.
She closed her book with a snap and stuffed it into her bag, jamming her art tools back into their case.
Flopping back, she resisted the urge to cry. He was fine, perfectly fine—just sleeping in, the ass. Missing more school and dragging her into his flakiness. She choked on a wet sob and placed a hand on her mouth, looking up at the ceiling. God—she’d thought… she’d thought he was dead. That he’d died and she’d been in the other room and not known it. That she’d let it happen, sleeping away when he was dying from… whatever had hurt him.
She didn’t kid herself. She knew that being Spider-Man, Peter could die. Sure, he had more durability than normal humans thanks to that stupid spider, but he wasn’t indestructible. A bullet would still hurt him. She knew that. She’d seen him fall into her room, dripping blood, more times than she could count on her hand. She was aware of the danger, but… but this… She’d been right there.
Michelle sucked in another breath and pressed her lips into a line, almost painful with the force of it. A whimper still escaped her.
“Are you alright Miss Jones?” Friday asked, making her jump. “You appear to be distressed.”
Snapping her head around she looked for the camera in Peter’s room but couldn’t find any obvious ones. “No, I'm okay,” she choked out, eyes going to the ceiling corners.
“Are you sure? I could fetch someone for you, if you wish.”
“No, no—that’s okay. I’m fine,” she assured the AI, wondering distantly how emotive she was, if she could pick up on Michelle's little breakdown. “How did you know?”
“If you are referring to how I knew your emotional state, Boss has installed sensors within Peter’s room. Peter tends to suffer from nightmares and Boss likes to know about it. However he wouldn’t invade Peter’s privacy with a camera,” Friday informed her, sounding oddly proud.
Michelle sat back, sinking against the cushion. “Huh… cool.” That was very sweet of him. She knew from her own experience that Peter would never talk about his nightmares willingly, from the few times he’d had them after a study session. The most he’d tell her was that he’d never wanted to be in a collapsing building again. That alone gave her shivers. What exactly had he gone through?
She didn’t have the answers, and she wouldn’t needle him for them. She’dbe patient—he’d tell her when he was ready.
Her eyes flickered to the still form of her friend. He’d have to wake up to do that.