PETER 🕷

_

HAPPY IS GOOD.

That's what she said to me about four hours ago in the Chemistry lab, and that's the only thing that's been playing on my mind this whole time. I really wanted her to be happy, not just because she's my soulmate, but because she deserves it.

I know what she's doing with all those science supplies.

The cookie batter, the ingredients, the scratches of notes on her notebook—I knew what she was making, and I thought it was great. She was a kind soul who deserved better than a hero who rejected her.

But hey!

She can date Peter (me) instead of my alias, because that's a win win. If I can get her to fall in love with my civilian self, then she can stay safe, and we won't be lonely.

We're getting sandwiches tomorrow.

Yes!

But I'm not sure if that's going to make her feel better about getting rejected. Maybe I should buy her two sandwiches. Or three. Or how many she wants, because it's up to her how much she wants to eat.

"Who's the lucky person?" Mr. Stark asked, striding into the lab.

After school, I ended up getting a ride with Happy to go to the Tower. I had some engineering homework to get done, and my project required some tools that only a wealthy billionaire would have, so I asked if I could borrow some.

I sat up straighter in my chair when he walked in. "Lucky who?"

"The person you're daydreaming about?" He said, cocking a brow, "I've seen that bug-eyed look before, kid."

I smiled sheepishly. "Oh, she's my soulmate."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And are you going to elaborate on that, or just leave me in the dark," he chuckled, tossing me a black box, "there's the power-drill you wanted, by the way."

I caught it swiftly with one hand, rising onto my feet and snatching a pair of clear goggles from the stand. I had to get this project done by 7, or May would blow up my phone with worried messages, so I was running a time limit. Good thing Mr. Stark showed up on time. I was worried his press conference would run over.

"She's cool," I nodded, rolling up my sleeves, "I mean, I don't really know her yet."

The man nodded in understanding. "Meeting your soulmate is always awkward at first."

"Well, my situation is difficult."

"I'm sure it is."

"What?" I frowned, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're clearly the awkward type," Mr. Stark noted, "you're like Daniel LaRusso at the beginning of Karate Kid."

"I love Karate Kid!"

"Yeah, but don't use it as your romantic example."

Unboxing the power-drill from the black box, I placed it on the table, reaching into my backpack for the audio-box I'd assembled (no pun intended, but also intended) a few days ago. I was trying to make a tiny model of F.R.I.D.A.Y—a voice-activated A.I.

"Yeah, but there's something else, Mr. Stark," I added, tensing up nervously.

He looked up from his work. "Hm?"

"She thinks Spider-Man is her soulmate, not me."

There was a heavy pause in the room, where the silence nearly swallowed me up. I felt like I said something illegal. Not to mention, Mr. Stark looked at me like I have five ears and a giant third-eye.

"But kid," he said bluntly, "you are Spider-Man."

I felt dumb.

"Well, yeah, but she can't know that," I clarified, "and I have to keep my identity a secret."

"So, she doesn't know you're her soulmate, because she doesn't know you and Mister Web-Slinger are the same person?"

"Yup."

There was another pause, where the man thought things through. I wasn't sure why I was going to him for relationship advice, because he wasn't trained for couple therapy—not that [y/n] and I were a couple, or anything—but still.

"Have you tried asking her out as 'Peter'?" He asked.

"Yeah," I sighed, "we're getting sandwiches tomorrow."

"Not today?"

"No, she's busy," I said, "she said she has to find someone to fund this project of hers."

Feeling sorry for myself, I flicked on the power drill, letting the loud whir of the tool fill the air. It was spinning around quickly, just like my mind. Even though I was going to get food with her tomorrow, that didn't guarantee she liked me. She didn't think I was her soulmate, and in this world, you just don't date someone who's not. You just don't.

At least not unless you want to get scrutinized by society, but I have enough social anxiety as it is, and I don't appreciate hurtful rumors.

"Relax, Parker," Tony finally said after a while, "I know how to solve this."

I blinked, turning off the drill. "You do?"

"Just finish your project, go home, and try not to kill yourself in the process," he nodded, "don't worry about it."

"But what are you going to do?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "that's not important."

"Oh, okay."

"Just don't screw things up with her, okay?"

I gave him a nod, glancing at the floor. "I won't."

But for some reason, I wasn't entirely confident with that statement. The future seemed foggy when I thought about what would happen, because of two reasons. One, I'm not good at relationship stuff. I've never had a girlfriend, and the most romantic thing I've done was doodle a heart on my poster of Emma Watson.

And second?

I always screw things up.