Chapter Text
He took a drag of his cigarette — Peter knew how bad they were for him, yet he really couldn’t find it in himself to care. He blankly observed the world around him, not flinching as his vision tinted green and a disapproving Harry Osborn lookalike appeared. After thousands of years, Peter wasn’t surprised by what the Stones could do anymore.
He exhaled heavily, watching the smoke pour past his lips and float into the air. “What do you want, Time?”
Time shifted uncomfortably, an expression so odd on the face of his sure-footed and confident best friend that Peter couldn’t help but allow the corners of his lips to twitch upwards in the ghost of a smile.
The cool air on the balcony whipped his curls, mussing them up like a lover’s touch, as Peter moved to cross his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows. “What? Spit it out,”
The edges of his sight turned from green to an orange-yellow, as Soul appeared in the body of Mary Jane. She wore a flowy tan dress with a light brown leather jacket. Peter could almost find how the two articles seemed to clash amusing but instead, he took another drag, ignoring Soul’s disapproving look. If Peter cared what others thought, he wouldn’t be in this business. He waited until his lungs began to burn before he breathed out, watching the smoke disapparate.
“Peter, you need help,” her eyes glowed softly, and she stepped towards Peter, but he just turned away with a grunt. “Humans are meant to have a pack, connection. You haven’t talked to anyone since the 90s,”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Sue me, Soul I fought in two wars I deserve a decade or two alone,” He bit back, smoking the cigarette once again. He puffed out some smoke, sighing.
Soul sighed in response, leaning against the rickety railing, brushing a little of her auburn hair from her face. “I’m not saying you don’t deserve a break, Peter. But, this —” She gestured vaguely to his sullen form, “ — isn’t healthy.”
Peter sighed in exasperation, as if he was once again a moody teen being scolded by Aunt May. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you think I should be doing? It’s not like Danvers will be showing up again anytime soon, and Stark isn’t going to be doing anything for another decade,”
His vision tinted — god, he’s sick of that — purple, this time, Power appeared, her smug grin on Gwen’s face. A flowy purple robe reached down past her ankles.
She flicked her hair back, raising an eyebrow as a bunch of folders and files appeared in her arms. Peter didn’t know what was inside, but he could recognize the logo emblazoned on the side anywhere.
“Power,” He said tersely, “Why is SHIELD’s logo on those files?”
She grinned mischievously. “Would you believe that we have a plan for you?”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “What would this plan entail?” He was curious, sue him.
The wind whipped Power’s white-blond curls and she ushered Peter back into his small apartment. He could technically get a better one, but he didn’t need much to survive and figured that somewhere small was more inconspicuous. She spread out the files — which Peter now realized were his files from the organization — on the hardwood floor. Peter didn’t even want to know how she got them.
She flicked one open, tapping it. “Seems like we’ll be having a visitor tomorrow,”
Peter furrowed his brows, sitting cross-legged next to Power before plucking the file from her hands. He absorbed the information at a superhuman speed, raising an eyebrow curiously.
“Huh,” Peter said, scratching his cheek. “So they’ve tasked Romanoff with bringing me in?”
“I mean you’ve been evading Fury for a decade or so,” Power shrugged, “Widow’s the best of the best. It’s a smart choice,”
Peter sighed, hanging his head, “ Why do I have to have a stupid ‘moral objection’ to mind-wiping,” He griped, using his spare hand to massage his temples.
“Well, that’s the reason we chose you to wield us,” Power pointed out in an annoyingly sensible fashion. “Even after several millennia, you don’t let the abilities go to your head,”
Peter gave Power a disbelieving look. “Didn’t I quite literally use you guys to pay for my sandwich the other day?”
Power huffed with amusement, clarifying herself: “I mean, you’re not a bad person Peter. You use your powers to help as much as you can without disrupting history, and you forget,” She raised her eyebrows pointedly, “We’re all in your head, we know how much it hurts you to stay on the sidelines,”
Peter looked away, an embarrassed blush coating his cheeks. He knew that they were always there, and even though he had been disturbed by it at first, Peter had gotten used to it. Still, sometimes he tended to forget they could read his emotions — not his thoughts, he had all but barred that, but it did still feel weird, even though the Stones had been with him for centuries.
Power furrowed her brows, tilting her head like a confused puppy. She awkwardly reached out a hand to put on Peter’s shoulder, the ghostly touch somewhat comforting despite being lighter than a warm breeze on a summer’s day.
“Fine,” Peter said, shrugging off the hand as he scanned the page once again. “What do you want me to do? Should I move to a different part of Queens?” His fingertip tapped erratically against the page. “They know my address,”
Power shook her head, an impish smirk on her lips. She laced her fingers together, leaning forward as if they were children in a schoolyard telling each other a secret. She shook her head, a smirk growing wider as she said, “The plan, Peter, is to do nothing,”
He opened his mouth to object, but Power put a hand up continuing: “We’ll warn you when Romanoff comes here, and you can surrender yourself to SHIELD — don’t think we don’t remember that little trick you did to make sure that HYDRA won’t be able to infiltrate their ranks,”
Peter sighed audibly, “I know it messed with time, SHIELD was supposed to be infested with HYDRA and then fall, but,” He waved his hands wildly, “I couldn’t ! So, yeah…” It took a second for Peter to process the first part of Power’s sentence, too hyperfocused on the last bit, but once he did, the curly-haired man let out an undignified sound, shaking his head like a dog out of water.
“Wait, wait, wait, what?” Peter’s mouth was hanging open, eyes wide. “You want me to surrender myself? Why? What’s the point of all of the- dodging- the avoiding-”
Power’s brows furrowed. “Well, Peter, it was your choice to do all of those things. You thought it wouldn’t be safe because of HYDRA in SHIELD’s ranks, but, they’re gone,” Power grimaced, correcting herself, “ mostly gone. You need to drop a tip about a few of the lower-level recruits who are HYDRA, but everyone else with actual power, they’re good.”
Peter stood up and began pacing. “Power, Maria’s going to recognize me! I was her only other gay friend back in the 80s, fuck,” He ran a hand through his curls, “Do people still use ‘friend of Dorothy’? Is don’t ask don’t tell still a thing? I don’t even remember! Fuck!”
The Jewish man found his spiral stopping when the edges of his sight changed from purple back to the orange-yellow of Soul. His chest was heaving, and his ears were ringing. He felt his shoulder accidentally hit the wall, but Peter jumped as if the Devil himself had stabbed him with his pitchfork. He pressed his back against the wall, sliding down as his breaths came out in shattered gasps.
“Hey, hey, Peter, it’ll be okay. You don’t need to do this, we just thought, since you’ve been so lonely recently, well… maybe it couldn’t hurt if you made some friends in SHIELD.” Soul murmured, her touch feather-like against his knee, it wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all he had.
His eyes felt hot, and he sniffled. Peter’s entire body trembled. The ringing stopped him from being able to hear Soul, but another one of the Stones spoke in his mind.
“Peter, you’re having a panic attack ,” Mind told him, his voice gentle as he began to guide Peter through breathing exercises. “Breathe in for three. One… two… three… Hold.” He could feel the slight smile in his tone, as he continued: “ One… two… three. Exhale,” Peter breathed out, counting along with Mind. One… two… three… This repeated several more times until it no longer felt like he was flailing uncontrollably in a raging tsunami.
He could finally see Soul, looking appropriately concerned. “Hey, Peter, you don’t have to do this,” She told him. “Power’s an idiot,”
Peter rubbed furiously at his cheeks, shaking his head. “No, no, it’s okay,” Now that his mind was more clear, Peter could admit to himself that hanging other people — other human beings — sounded nice. He loved the Stones, but they weren’t a replacement for friends. They were more like annoying older siblings. Even if he was going to be sent to a black site, at the very worst, Peter could always teleport away.
“I’ll do it, but only if we do it my way , ” Peter said, much more firmly than expected for having a panic attack quite literally five minutes ago. Soul nodded eagerly, her face lighting up.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Soul said, obviously attempting to disguise her excitement.
“Yep. But first,” Peter shakily stood up, bracing a hand against the wall. Now that he was back to himself, he felt his fingertips itch. “I need a smoke,”
He felt the familiar weight of a cigarette as it materialized between his fingers — it would’ve been too suspicious to not smoke back in the 50s, but he kept the habit as a kind of … crutch when his mind turned in a too-dark direction.
The feeling of nicotine making his mind hazy was familiar, it was a type of normalcy he hadn’t had since he was fourteen and decided to become Spider-Man.
It was routine by the point. Peter went back out onto the balcony, despite Soul’s protests, and watched the front of the cig begin to darken before taking a long, slow drag. He exhaled and watched as the wind — which had become harsher, as if it, too, was attempting to stop Peter — carried the smog into the night air.
Lights and honking always overtook his senses, living in a densely populated city like New York, but he was calm. Happy, even.
You know, that stuff’s gonna kill you one day. Soul said disapprovingly. Peter hadn’t even noticed how his sight was back to normal. He flicked the cigarette butt onto the floor of the balcony, shaking his head. Peter turned around, his voice carrying as he spoke into the cool night air:
“As long as I’ve got you guys around, I don’t think anything can kill me,”