Anyone for You (Tiger Lily) — George Ezra

Unlike Lila, whose plans resided near the other end of the 7-train, Peter's errands were far more local to his neighborhood. So when he walked out the doors of school, hardly thinking about the fact that he was now officially a senior, he simply got on the F-train and went where he always went.

Murphy's tail greeted him at the door, fluffy and gray before slinking off under one of the aisles and disappearing. The bell overhead dinged as the door shut behind him, and Peter walked into Delmar's. Weaving through the shelves (standing shoulder height ever since Delmar's deli was finally rebuilt, ensuring no one could ever get stuck under one again), he zeroed in on exactly what he came for. He picked up the last European charging converter before heading over to the check out.

Mr. Delmar was sitting next to the register, a lull in business permitting him a moment of rest. Peter waved hello, which was merrily reciprocated. The travel-size toothpaste, along with snacks any growing teenager would enjoy were catty-corner to Delmar, who watched as Peter thumbed through all the choices.

"Are you planning a trip?" Mr. Delmar politely inquired, placing his elbows on the counter as he leaned forward.

Peter who was in the middle of contemplating whether or not it would be too forward to bring some mouthwash to carry around (kissing Lila could happen at any right time, after all) as he answered, "Uh, Europe, yeah."

That piqued Delmar's interest, and he jokingly replied, "Ooh, can I come?"

"It's a science trip," Peter played along, deciding to just get the mouthwash along with a bag of chips for his trouble. He placed all his things on the counter and added, "The history of science. Tesla, Da Vinci and all that."

Mr. Delmar's smile deflated, uncrossing his arms and moving to scan all of Peter's items. "I'm good. Anything else?"

"Um," Peter noted the display behind Mr. Delmar, "Tienes adaptaro duble... audiophone?" His words were elongated as he tried to string a sentence (make up words) together for his Spanish friend.

Mr. Delmar was unimpressed. "¿Que?"

"The dual headphone adapter." A grunt of laughter escaped Mr. Delmar as he corrected Peter. Peter, who was thinking about who he'd share said adapter with, merely shrugged. "That is literally, exactly what I said. Maybe word for word."

"Here," Mr. Delmar said, and rang him out. "Stay out of trouble over there, and say hi to your aunt for me." With a wink, he let Peter go, and Peter crossed off yet another thing on his to-do list.

The next step had Peter rushing home, but he didn't stay for long. Only long enough to put his Spider-Man suit on underneath his clothes (the nanotechnology made it so easy), drop off his toiletries and grab the box by his door.

Peter had previously sorted through all the action figures he'd collected, as he knew he'd be busy today. And he was glad he did it earlier — the process took him three hours of serious contemplation. There was only one figure he was still unsure about selling, but he didn't think too hard on it as he headed back onto the street.

Pawn shops were not Peter's ideal shopping experience, but he'd discovered this one when he once stopped a robber from looting the place. Inside had various trinkets, anything from guitars to remote-control cars to (allegedly Wakandan) carved animal masks. Peter greeted the shop's owner and slid his shoebox of figurines across the counter.

The man, slightly taller than Peter, put his glasses on and inspected each figurine. He listed off prices for each one, and came to a total. When he glanced back up at Peter, he raised an eyebrow in doubt. "You sure about this?"

Peter spared one fleeting glance at the figurines on the counter. "Yeah. I wanna buy a girl I like something really nice."

The man nodded, merely saying, "Well, I hope she's worth it," in response. He began sliding the box towards himself when Peter's impulsiveness got the better of him.

"Actually, can I just keep the Lobot? Thanks, I'll just keep that one."

The subway rattled along overhead as Peter jogged over to the post office. He was silently commending himself on making such good timing when those thoughts stopped short, for he viewed the very long line ahead of him.

This office had a passport pickup, and was chosen for that exact purpose, but when Peter looked from the seven people in front of him to the window he should have been using, his stomach sank to see it read Closed.

Quick on his feet as he was, an idea struck him. Glancing behind to make sure no one walked in behind him, Peter fished his phone out of his pocket and opened the application that connected him to his suit (Lila had lovingly coined it The Web). Scrolling through the features, he found the Spider-Drone, and chose manual operation.

The plan worked beautifully, and while Peter glanced between piloting the tiny mechanical spider and the people bored to tears in front of him, the spider crawled out of the front pocket of his backpack. Expertly buzzing over to the window, Spider-Drone crawled under the narrow opening the window had, and found the green button on the side of the desk that once pressed, signified the passport pickup window was open and operational.

As soon as the sign flickered from Closed to Open, Peter called back Spider-Drone, closed him securely in his backpack and sidled up to the window in one swift motion. "Peter Parker here to pick up a passport, please."

The clerk, who was mid-bite on an impressively cut sandwich, stared bewildered at him. Silently, and still wide-eyed, she sifted through the envelopes until she found the one containing his passport. He gratefully accepted, and politely wished her a good day, triumphantly leaving the post office. It really only left him one thing to do before he left.

                              *****

Michelle and Lila said goodbye to Harry and Eddie, content to walk to their next destination. The two had settled into a comfortable silence, enjoying the afternoon sun and anticipating delicious Italian food. There was so much to look forward to, whether it was the evening ahead, or the trip to Europe tomorrow, or even seeing her family after so long apart. Her best friend was by her side, and Lila had very little to—

"Hey! Watch where you're going next — oh."

MJ's hand was gripping Lila's elbow as Lila herself made sure the man, who stumbled out of the alleyway they were walking past, didn't fall over. He'd bowled into her, apparently unaware of the foot traffic right outside the shaded alley. And when Lila caught a glance at the man's face, his unawareness, and the reason MJ stopped her reprimand short, suddenly made sense.

Lila's hand was still on the man's shoulder as he adjusted the red-tinted spectacles on his face. He held on tightly to a red and white cane in one hand, the kind Lila immediately recognized as one that guided a blind person.

"Yeah, it's a little hard to watch where I'm going," said the man, his voice reassuring yet laced with a harmless sarcasm. He was slightly out of breath, and his suit was disheveled, like he'd been running in it. That idea was immediately dismissed in Lila's head, but something else could simply not be ignored.

"Y-You're bleeding," Lila stated, eying the scarlet dripping from his nose, and slowly oozing out of a cut on his cheek. Lila's eyes narrowed in suspicion, the swelling around the cut was from a punch, she'd seen enough marks like that on Peter to know. She let go of him to reach into her backpack and grab a tissue. "Are you al-alright?"

Though he was tense under the hand Lila still had on his shoulder, the man gently took the tissue from her and wiped his nose. He entirely disregarded the cut on his cheek when he replied, "Fine, fine. I guess I — uh — I got a little turned around. Fell down in the alley. Hey, what street are we on?"

"Fifty-Sixth and Ninth," MJ answered.

The man sighed, though if Lila read her cues correctly, it might've been a huff of frustration, "Okay, I got really turned around."

"Is there anywhere I can h-help you get to?" Lila asked. "I f-feel terrible for bumping into you."

"He bulldozed into you," MJ stated, and Lila shot her a glare.

Luckily, the man between them seemed to have a good sense of humor, for he let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. "Your friend's right. I'm sorry I bumped into you, but I'll be fine. And from the sound of her stomach growling—" he pointed to MJ— "it sounds like you two have somewhere to be."

"I insist." Curiosity fueled the bold statement, and even Michelle looked surprised. "I'd feel terrible if — if you ended up in another alley and I-I could've helped you. Can I at least w-walk you to the train?"

"No need, I'm over on Fifty-Fourth and Eighth, and I can—"

"Great, it's n-not far. MJ," Lila asked as she looped her arm through the man's and turned to her friend, "Will you head down to the r-restaurant and see if Sophie's th-there? I won't be l-long, I promise."

MJ stared at the man with an air of suspicion before she asked, "You're not a criminal, are you?"

"Um — no, I'm not a criminal. I am a lawyer, though."

This seemed to warrant contemplation, for MJ briefly stared him up and down before shrugging. "At least you're not a cop, I guess. Does the lawyer have a name?"

"Matthew Murdock," he stuck out his free hand, entirely missing where MJ was standing. Politely, she took his hand, but still seemed doubtful.

"That sounds like a fake name."

"MJ!"

"What?"

Matthew laughed, and shook his head. "Afraid not."

"L-Look," Lila said, "MJ, this won't take long at all, and Mr. Murdock's right, if you don't get some bread in you in, like, f-five minutes, I think you'll — you'll combust."

On cue, MJ's stomach rumbled, which was an accomplishment to be heard over the busy Manhattan traffic. She sighed and said, "Fine. But I'm calling the police if I don't hear from you in ten minutes."

"Message received," Matthew said, seeming to finally accept that Lila wasn't going to leave him alone. They said their farewells to MJ and parted ways, Lila loosely holding on.

"I'm s-sorry again, Mr. Murdock," Lila said, taking in the light scent of vanilla that seemed to cling to him.

Matthew was still tense beside her, but he shook his head, "Accidents happen, Lila. And I ran into you."

"It's not that, I'm — I'm sorry for insisting I walk y-you. I m-mean, I know you're capable, I just — I didn't want to p-put you on the spot by asking you who h-hit you." She anticipated his tension, but it still didn't feel great to see her companion's expression twist to hide the surprise. A look she'd seen before.

Matthew started, "I'm not sure—"

"Left-h-hook," Lila insisted, her tone neutral and purposefully void of suspicion. "Your skin split on their kn-knuckle. It w-won't need stitches, just a butterfly b-bandage."

He seemed too surprised to deny it. "Where does someone like you know about left-hooks and the kind of marks they leave?" Lila couldn't even respond before Matthew's face darkened and he leaned in, his tone serious. "Are you — is anyone—?"

"N-No, no," Lila answered, and Matthew seemed to wait for a beat, like he was listening for the truth. Accepting what she told him, he straightened. "A-And I'm just as l-likely to tell you how I know as y-you are to tell me how you were running through that — that alley."

"Okay, fair enough."

Lila stopped them both, sighing. Sure, maybe she wouldn't understand how this strange man ended up the way he did, and maybe she couldn't do the things Peter could, but she could still help. "Do you n-need to go to the police? M-Make a report or anything?"

Matthew considered her, which felt intense and pointed and odd, considering he was blind. He shook his head and said, "No, it's really alright. Things have a way of getting taken care of here."

The pair stepped down the street again, and Lila's wandering gaze caught onto a diner with the neighborhood in the name. Suddenly, his answer made sense. "Oh, sh-shit I guess they do, what with the Devil of H-Hell's Kitchen running around."

"I take it you don't live in Hell's Kitchen, then."

Lila shook her head, though the gesture was pointless. "I'm up in Queens, u-usually, just running some errands today."

"Oh, well, it seems like things are taken care of over there too, what with Spider-Man swinging around." Lila hummed in agreement with him, a surge of pride washing over her. She was about to respond when she saw the swinging sign a few doors down.

Nelson and Murdock
Attorneys at Law

"It's n-nice to know you weren't lying about — about your name," Lila commented, earning another dry laugh in response.

"Why lie when your name's on the door, you know? Thanks again, Lila, for walking me back."

"Sorry for the — the interrogation y-you got in the meantime." He waved his hand in dismissal of the thought, but then held out his hand for her to shake. Only this time, his hand was right in front of her. She gently took it, and an idea sprung up.

"Do you have a-a business card, perchance? M-My dad's attorney r-retired two months ago, and he might like y-your info. He has a flower shop in the city."

Luckily, Matthew seemed to have one on him, a bit wrinkled at the edges, but the name and phone number were legible, and, given the texture, available in braille as well.

"Thank you, again, Mr. Murdock. A-And for what it's worth, I hope the Devil of Hell's Kitchen makes sure you don't come across someone looking to show y-you their left-hook again."

A wry, crooked grin appeared on Matthew Murdock's face, like Lila had just told him the funniest joke he'd heard in a while. "Thank you, Lila, for being kind enough to walk a stranger who can't watch where they're going back to work. I look forward to hearing from your dad."

He turned and disappeared behind the door. Lila stuffed the card into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Satisfied that the man was okay, she continued down the street towards the place her own hunger could be satiated. She sent proof of life via text to MJ, and put the entire scenario out of her head. Europe was tomorrow, there really wasn't much room on the docket for worrying.

                                *****

The Manfredi crime syndicate was mid-level, and hardly took Peter any time to track down the weakest link. He hated to make it sound so stereotypical, but it didn't help when the Manfredi operated out of an Italian restaurant which was simply a front. The biggest issue Peter had was that he was simply going to miss the food, they had incredible carbonara.

Peter arrived at the rather upscale Queens' establishment approximately half an hour before they opened. According to his snitch, all the heavy hitters were to be in one place. So stupid, Peter thought, wondering if anyone in the family had the brains to operate at the level they thought they did. In an alleyway nearby, he leisurely strapped his backpack in an out-of-reach area, and called the police to fill them in. He figured by the time they made it, Peter's work would be done.

In he crawled to the restaurant, whose bright lighting with a rather inappropriately placed fish tank set the scene for several Manfredi members to pass around some heavy weaponry. Upon seeing the automatic weapons, Peter wasted no more time and fired the first web.

It hit his target squarely on the back, sending him flying into a table while Peter dropped down from the ceiling. "Let's keep it moving guys," said Spider-Man, "I've got a lot to do today."

A waiter came out in front of him, charging for him, while simultaneously one of the security aimed a gun at his back. Spider-Man webbed one after the other, wrapping all their limbs tightly around themselves, sticking them to any surface around. That was when the gunfire started.

Peter leapt back onto the row of tables, and every time he landed, he webbed up yet another goon (they really were deserving of the name). The bullets fired ricocheted off him no problem, shielding him from any harm, and making this already easy task infinitely more doable.

He finally landed on an overturned table, perched nicely while behind him, three web grenades drew more people up to the ceiling, unable to move. Across the restaurant, a man stood by the fish tank and opened fire on Spider-Man. In a joking mood, Peter humored him, pretending to be struck down by the bullets before hopping up and saying, "Just kidding, it's bulletproof."

The man, whose defective gun jammed, promptly flew back into the fish tank after Spider-Man landed a kick to his chest. The last of the crime front emerged, and was handled with sheer ease. Peter even managed to web everyone up before the police had arrived.

They had barely holstered their weapons when Peter walked over to them and started speaking. Pointing to each person respectively, he said, "Okay, yeah, so he's the first in command, he's pretty much just a runner, and then that's the buyer, that's the seller, and that's the snitch."

The snitch, who was attached to a column, widened his eyes as he near-silently whispered a betrayed, "Dude!"

Peter winced, "I'm sorry, he's not—" He couldn't backtrack from what he said, he turned to the nearest officer and said, "— You should probably put him in his own cell."

"So," said another officer to Spider-Man's right, finishing writing down everything relayed on her notepad, "Keeping the fancy suit?"

" Uh—"

"You gonna be the next Iron Man, now?"

"Well no, I don't have time," Spider-Man admitted, casually shrugging, "I'm too busy doing your jobs."

A collective noise of mock protest from the officers followed, and Peter chuckled. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding." He moved towards the front doors of the restaurant, excited to reach his final destination before his trip. "You're gonna have to do your jobs for a couple weeks, okay? Because I am going on vacation."

                                *****

There truly was something special about Fiaschetteria Pistoia that Lila was unable to put her finger on. At first, she thought it was the fact that the ingredients were sourced from Italy. Sophie said it had everything to do with the fact that they serve incredible wine in sauce caddies. MJ had to disagree: their no-reservation rule, first to get there and first to eat, was clearly what made it superior. Cara, who introduced the group to the restaurant in the first place, told them it was all of the above. And, for good measure, promptly ended the argument with a stern stare at Sophie.

The string lights and the sun splashed against the white-painted brick walls, yet it still felt dimmer than outside, more relaxed. There were only two other tables occupied, meaning the night had yet to get busy. Fine by Lila, given the circumstances, it was actually the perfect setting for her to relax. She was with some of her favorite people, and she was starving for good food.

According to the rules of Sophie, good conversation couldn't really start until the wine was poured. Once the caddy of wine bottles clanked over to their table and their food was ordered, an ease settled over them. Lila transitioned over from pleasantries to more personal talk after the first glass was downed. Most importantly—

"Did you take my Met Gala shoes when you were over for dinner last Tuesday?"

Sophie, mid-sip, swallowed, "That's a big accusation for the table, Phish Food."

"Big shoes to fill, since I'm a whole size larger than you—"

"Okay," Sophie scoffed, "Little harsh. And no, I didn't take your shoes."

"So then you didn't wear them and post them to your instagram like, two days ago?" Lila asked again, a smirk creeping up her face in victory.

To her unexpected delight, Cara turned to Sophie and said, "I knew those shoes were new!"

"God damnit," Sophie muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Yes, I took them, are you happy?"

"You know I'm about to go to Paris, right? If you want new shoes, I'll get you new shoes."

"You know what I would actually want, Phish Food?" Confusion replaced triumph, and Lila tilted her head at Sophie's question. "I want you to finally tell Peter you like him."

There was a beat of silence as Lila took in her words, "You sure you don't want anything t-tangible, like a tiny spoon?"

"You already know what you can get me," Sophie brushed off her question with a wave of her hand. "But I'm entirely serious about you and Peter. When is that ship going to sail?"

"Hopefully never," MJ said, and that took Lila aback. Feeling eyes on her, Michelle simply shrugged. "What? I'm hungry and he keeps secrets."

If only you knew, Lila thought nervously. "Okay if we're not talking about stolen shoes, then maybe we should also not talk about boys? Just as a general rule..."

"Lila's right, darling," Cara agreed, rubbing her hand across Sophie's back while Sophie finished her second glass of wine. "Though, we're all dying to know when you'll say something." Cara raised her hands in surrender at Lila's open-mouthed gaping. "I'm sorry, love, but you know it's true. You're head over heels for that boy, and from what I can tell, he definitely feels the same."

"Is it Gang Up On Lila Day or something? Did I miss the memo?" She was met with shrugs and more silence. Suddenly, the time between ordering food and receiving said food felt exponentially longer.

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk about her feelings with Peter. She knew she wasn't subtle about it (though it would be nice if Peter could also pick up what she'd been laying down for years), but it was exhausting to be reminded that their relationship wasn't where she wanted it to be. Maybe that was why she said what she said.

"I'll have you know," she scoffed, "that I have every intention of telling Peter how I feel." There might as well have been crickets in the restaurant, for her statement was only met with silence. "I am! In fact, I'm gonna tell him on our trip.... Yeah."

"You sound sure."

"Well, my plan's only like — two hours old t-tops. And saying it out loud just now kind of — kind of made it real."

It was Cara who cracked a wide grin that broke the tension, "Brava, Lila, that takes real guts. It took Sophie here ages to own up to her feelings for me."

"Uh — excuse me," Sophie scoffed, "I told you when the time was right. And don't act like you knew, the shock on your face was there for my confession, too—"

"Shocked that you finally told me, honestly, I didn't think it was ever gonna happen at that point..."

Lila turned away from the couple to look over at Michelle and frowned when she saw her friend fiddling with her drink straw. For the life of her, she didn't understand why MJ looked so... pensive. Usually, she had next to zero interest whenever Peter was mentioned.

"MJ?" She asked softly, the bickering between the girls next to them allowing for a small modicum of privacy at the table.

Michelle pursed her lips tightly before slowly looking up at Lila. The look in her eyes had a knot form in Lila's stomach: like she was desperate to reveal something to her friend but torn to do so. And suddenly Lila had a very good idea of just what that something might be, even if she'd never entertain the idea extending further past the scope of her imagination.

"He's secretive, Lila, I just think you need to be careful."

Careful's kind of out the window at this point, Lila wanted to say, but refrained. Instead, she looked to Michelle and nodded, sincere in heeding her warning, though knowing exactly why she wouldn't. "I will, but it's w-weirding me out that you're worrying so much about a boy."

"Ugh, I know, it's exhausting caring this much. My skin's starting to itch from it — oh thank god, cacio e pepe."

Their dinner arrived, and the knot in Lila's stomach was shaken loose at the growls emanating from her at the sight of mouthwatering, fresh Italian food. In mere hours, she'd be enjoying the real thing, and she tried not to worry about her own secrets following her across the Atlantic.

                            *****

Night had fallen fully, and Peter, despite having air conditioning in his suit he was sweating buckets. The stage lights were strong and shining right on him, with nowhere to run to as May stood in front of him and breezed through her speech. She thanked everyone for coming and for donating towards F.E.A.S.T.'s cause supporting displaced Blipped people. It was met with enthusiastic applause as May thanked him, and everyone eagerly eyed Spider-Man.

The worst part was that he simply didn't remember what he said. He didn't remember what he sounded like, and it didn't help that it was dead silent in the auditorium. Peter must have kept it a little bit together, since the crowd didn't boo him, and he and May left the stage to the sound of polite clapping.

Back in the empty kitchen, Peter's suit revealed his face to his aunt. "That was amazing." Peter turned around and high-fived the woman walking past him.

"That was great," she agreed.

"Oh that was great! I was so nervous." Peter admitted.

May fanned herself with the notecards she had in her hand while she faced Peter and chuckled. "I'm sorry, I was a little stiff. I felt like I wasn't in the pocket."

"No, you were totally great," Peter assured her, smiling. "I thought you were great."

"Yeah, well I did actually think that you were a little stiff," May said flatly. But there was a familiar touch of teasing in her eyes.

Peter paused and then nodded, "I thought that, too. I thought that too."

"It's fine, it's fine." Then May became all business. "Did you get your passport?"

"Yes."

"Mini toothpaste?"

"Yeah, I did—" Peter could barely get the words out before a door in the corner began to open. Peter's mask shot up, and he warily eyed the door. He didn't need to worry, for a giant check with Pepper Potts' signature followed by Happy Hogan emerged from the doorway.

"Sorry I'm late," Happy said, smiling.

"Happy, hey!" Peter said, but he might as well have said Hey, Asshole! because it would've made no difference. As soon as Happy zeroed in on May, he smiled and walked right up to her.

"You look lovely," he said to her, smiling shyly.

"Thanks, you too."

"Thank you." Happy eyed May's outfit better and asked, "New dress?"

"Uh — yeah. Yeah, yes. Yes, it is."

Peter, who was standing next to both of them, crossed his arms and looked to May curiously. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost say May was flirting with Happy. Her eyes were shining. "Is that a new beard?"

"It's my Blip beard, you know, just working on it since — uh — the Blip..." Happy trailed off after catching Peter's smug stare. "Anyways, the reason I was late is because this—" He handed the check over to May— "was lost at the office. Can you believe it? Because it's enormous. Well, not the amount, but the size — actually, the amount's pretty enormous, too."

May was giggling, and Peter could not stop staring at Happy. His expression had gone from mildly smug to mildly horrified. It was actually real, Happy Hogan is flirting with May. Was it actually working?

"... Pepper Potts said she's sorry she couldn't be here."

"Thank you." May smiled, her eyes still shining Happy's way. "I think I'm gonna go change the sterno under the vegan lasagna." She turned to walk away, but not before addressing her nephew. "Spider-Man, go shake hands."

"Will do," Peter gave a mock salute, watching his aunt leave before slowly and accusingly turning back to Happy. "What just happened?"

Happy didn't bite. "Heads up: Nick Fury's calling you."

A pebble of dread dropped in Peter's stomach. It didn't occur to him that Fury would use other people they both mutually knew as a means to get ahold of him. He'd been so good at ignoring his calls on his own.

Peter shook his head, "Why?"

"Why?" Happy asked, genuinely unsure how to answer. "He prob — he probably has some hero stuff for you to do. You — you're a superhero. He calls superheroes."

But Peter was already trying to justify the dodging he was trying to do. "Well, I mean, if it was really that important, he'd probably call someone else. Not me."

A cellphone vibrated behind him as he finished his sentence. Startled, Peter looked behind him to see that it was his phone. And the reason it was vibrating was because he received a phone call. From an unknown number.

"Apparently not," muttered Happy as Peter picked up his phone. "You see? No Caller ID, that's him."

Peter turned to Happy, slightly panicked. "I don't want to talk to Nick Fury—"

"—Answer the phone—"

"—Why?—"

"—Because if you don't talk to him, then I have to talk to him. And I don't want to talk to him." Happy looked as panicked as Peter the longer he went without answering the phone.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

"Because I'm scared of him — look. Just answer the phone—" Happy cut himself off in slight shock as Peter held up the phone and pressed Decline. "You sent Nick Fury to voicemail?"

"Yeah." Peter answered, putting his phone back in his bag and already planning his escape.

"You don't send Nick Fury to voicemail."

"Did you hear that?" Peter whiled back around to face Happy, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "They're calling me. I gotta go."

"You've gotta talk to him!" Happy looked nervous, almost like a child afraid to be left in the dark.

"I'm gonna call him, I promise. I promise you, I will... after my trip." Spider-Man's mask was back on his face, and he retreated into the crowded audience. Turning around to face them, he was left immediately regretting the decision, as the stage was circled by a horde of journalists waiting to hear from him.

Karma was swift, like Nick Fury sent it himself. Peter couldn't get away from the crowd fast enough. He had to physically escape the building, backpack in tow and the shouts of questions he wasn't ready to answer ringing in his ears.

Are you the head Avenger now?

If aliens come back, what are you gonna do?

What is it like to take over for Tony Stark? Those are big shoes to fill.

It didn't help that the rooftop he landed on was the one with a perfect view of some street artist's Iron Man tribute. It was all Peter could do to just breathe deeply and listen to the train behind him as it rattled past. By the time he'd settled, his phone was ringing with yet another call from Nick Fury. This time, Decline was an easier option.

He tried not to punish himself too hard when it came to Tony (Lila's words, not his), but he found it difficult. Was Peter even ready to take on more than just the neighborhood anymore? People like Macendale were one thing, but to take on what Tony took on, could he even do it? Part of him was angry that that responsibility now fell on him.

But mostly, it just made him sad that Tony was no longer there to help him through it.

Peter desperately needed this trip. He needed this sense of normalcy and exciting adventure before he had to make any decisions. And it had to be okay that he was going. Because he was going. Peter didn't run errands all afternoon for nothing. He was going on that trip, Nick Fury be damned. Besides, it was kind of just like Tony to do things on his own schedule anyway.

Don't come for me I am trying my best 🤦🏻‍♀️