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kitcat992 · 1 year

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Identity Within︱Chapter 6 - Something New (UPDATE PREVIEW)

Identity Within

New York always had a certain…well, vibe to it during the autumn season.

Every year come November, the trees that lined the streets of the city were consumed in whole by vivid reds and burnt oranges, replacing the once lush canopy of green seemingly overnight. With it, the crisp air that came with each breeze was a pleasant but firm reminder that the unforgiving cold of winter was right around the corner — a subtle sign from mother nature to enjoy the metamorphosis of seasons before the cityscape would transform once again.

Peter paced back and forth, repeatedly crossing the length of the rooftop to Grimaldi’s Pizza Parlor — not because the brisk autumn wind had made him chilly. No, his spider-suit — brand new, at that — did a fine job of keeping his body temperature perfectly regulated.

It wasn’t the chill that kept him moving, rather a poor attempt at shaking off his nerves. In fact, it was a feat he hadn’t left groove marks across the rooftop yet. At this point, he could’ve very well walked a few miles just going back and forth, all while soaking up the smells of the pizza dough that came wafting up from the vents of the restaurant down below.

“Alright, you got this — you totally got this.” Peter clapped his hands together, only to shake them right after — desperate to release the bundle of energy that practically ate him alive. “This is no big deal. Nothing to sweat. C’mon Parker, you rode Captain America’s motorcycle today — you’re Spider-Man, you got this!”

His nerves only seemed to get worse every time he looked across the street; this time turning his gaze right as the lights inside Peter Pan’s Donut Shop shut off, one by one.

Despite the strong draft of wind that passed through the surrounding foliage, Peter couldn’t help but notice that he suddenly felt flushed.

Warm?

Definitely warm.

Maybe his new suit still had some kinks they needed to work out. After all, he’d only had it for a few weeks now. It wasn’t uncommon for the motherboard systems to need the occasional update. Maybe that was the issue.

Or maybe, just maybe, he was more nervous than he wanted to admit.

“Alright — just….don’t over think this. Don’t get stuck in your head.” Peter let out a breath so heavy, most of it couldn't filter out of his mask. The smell struck him at full force, causing the eye lenses of his mask to twitch and spasm in response. “Oh, that’s gross. That’s-that’s bad.”

He really needed to start carrying breath mints on him.

Peter shook away the thought — literally, shaking his arms for the umpteenth time, the little wiggle-wobble he did in place doing absolutely nothing for his nerves.

Across the street and through the windows of the donut shop, Peter could make a middle-aged man working inside, flipping over chairs and stacking them on top of the tables. Not far away from him was a much younger girl, busy wiping down the counters, with half of her face hidden behind long strands of brown hair.

Peter chewed on his lower lip, watching MJ from afar — not once looking away after his eyes gravitated towards her.

Man, was she pretty.

Really pretty.

“Hey MJ, what’s up?” Peter practiced out loud, taking a deep breath in — deep enough to pull his shoulders back and lift his chin high. “It’s me, Peter. Peter Parker.”

Nearing the edge of the rooftop, Peter casually plopped down until his legs hung off the edge,

letting them dangle freely as his gaze fixated on the donut shop across the street. His attention was drawn solely to one person inside.

“What’s that? I have a new suit?” Both hands grazed across his chest, gloved fingers running down the length of the black and red fabric. “Yeah, fully upgraded, new look, all new colors — why am I doing that voice?” Peter stopped the moment he realized his voice had deepened by five octaves. He shook his head like a wet dog. “That voice is so stupid, don’t do that voice.”

For a moment, the only response he received in turn was the occasional sound of Brooklyn traffic from down below.

MJ was talking to the much older gentleman now — with a brown paper bag in one hand, and her book-bag over her other shoulder. Her hair covered half of her face, but Peter could still make out the tiny smile beneath the thick, curly locks.

After all, her smile was his favorite thing about her.

“MJ, hey, it’s me.” Peter swallowed, hard, a tight V forming between his brows beneath his mask. “Oh, this? You know, just patrolling, saving the city, nothing major — I’m still doing the voice!” A hand smacked across his face — covering the two large white eyes of his mask. “Why am I doing that stupid voice!?”

His frustration was shouted in the form of a whisper, barely heard over the breeze that passed by. And yet Peter was still flushed — there was no shaking off the nerves. The past half and hour made that abundantly clear.

“I believe that is because you are nervous, Peter.”

And for what time didn’t make obvious, there was always his AI.

“I’m not nervous!” Peter’s voice squeaked in his retort. He waved both hands out in front of him, dismissively, as if Karen could even seen his movements to begin with. “I’m not — I’m not nervous, I just…” Another deep sigh reminded Peter that he really needed to start carrying around breath mints. “I just don’t know what to say.”

The middle-aged man approached the front door, flipping the sign that once said ‘Open’ and turning it around until it said ‘Closed.’ Peter watched, a tight frown forming on his lips, as the two remaining employees inside got ready to depart.

The setting sun was making it difficult to see inside through the windows. Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to procrastinate much longer.

“That could be because you’re anxiety has made it hard for you to focus,” Karen said. “That is likely in part due to the fact that you are nervous.”

As much as Peter wanted to roll his eyes at Karen’s answer, he also didn’t have much ground to argue with her. She was, after all, usually right about things.

It was strange. There was a lot Peter had confidence for — a lot of things he gained confidence for. It wasn’t that being nervous was a foreign thing for him. Hell, these days it felt like a perpetual state of his existence.

MJ made him feel…different.

A different nervous.

Almost a…good nervous.

“I really don’t wanna mess this up, Karen,” Peter spoke quietly under his breath, both hands falling into his lap as his dangling legs came to a slow stop.

There was a noticeable pause from Karen before she asked, “With MJ?”

The sunset of the evening caught the golden hues from the trees, shinning bright against orange and burgundy leaves. Peter had to squint past the light to see the front door of the donut shop open up, watching silently as the older man let MJ exit before he locked the door behind her.

“Yeah,” Peter, once again, spoke the words in a hushed whisper. The sigh that left his chest was heavier than his own voice.

There had been so much that happened this past year — things that, while not directly his fault, had caused a cascade of problems in their wake. Mysterio getting away in Times Square, everything with Dmitri the wannabe Bond villain, all of the symbiote…

Peter could feel his heart skip a beat at the memories — his very alive, and very much beating heart that was once not beating after he died.

That was never not gunna be weird.

“I believe, Peter,” Karen spoke up, breaking him away from his thoughts,“if you were to mess anything up…it would be deliberately. And I don’t see any reason you’d sabotage yourself when it comes to MJ.”

Peter made a face beneath his mask — contemplation taking over every muscle in his expression, all as he watched MJ give a tiny wave to the man still inside the donut shop. He locked the door from the inside before she began to walk down the streets of the city, and slowly, Peter began to stand up from the edge of the rooftop.

Karen’s voice was the last thing he heard before he shot out a web and took off.

“Just be yourself.”

It took six and a half rooftops before Peter finally caught up with MJ — a lingering moment of hesitation nearly made it seven, but with all the courage he could muster up, he finally made the move to approach her.

A single strand of webbing attached on top the nearest fire escape ladder, allowing him to drop down gracefully into the alleyway, landing with a soft thud on the cement sidewalks.

Right as MJ walked by.

“Need someone to walk you home?” Peter asked, his voice muffled by his mask and three times deeper than average.

MJ spun on her heels to face him.

And screamed.

“AH!”

“Ah!” Peter startled back, stumbling backwards until his shoulder collided with the nearest dumpster behind him. The two lenses of his mask went from wide white to pitch black in a millisecond as he grabbed his arm and hissed, “Ahcck!”

“Ahhh!” MJ’s shrill shout easily reached over his, even as she swung her book-bag around her shoulder and began to frantically dig inside. “I have a taser, I know how to use it!”

“Mother of fudge —!” Peter clenched his shoulder firmly with one hand, squeezing away the pain before both his eyes shot open with realization. “Wait, MJ, it’s me —!”

“Don’t make me use it!” MJ stepped forward while also somehow taking a step back. “I’m not afraid to use it!”

“MJ, MJ!” Peter leaped forward, using one hand to wave in front of him while the other ripped off his mask, clenching it tightly in his grip. “It’s me! It’s Peter! Peter Parker!” he hissed low under his breath, making sure to stay tucked away in the alley as he all but squeaked, “Please don’t tase me!”

If MJ had been sporting a mask like Spider-Man’s, complete with twitchy mechanical lenses, they would’ve certainly shattered with how large her eyes grew, bigger than the setting sun above them both.

Finally, she smacked her hand against his chest — completely ignorant to the brown paper bag she still held in clenched fingers — and pushed him further into the alleyway.

“This — this is why you’re terrible at keeping secrets!” MJ broke free of her stunned trance with four hard steps forward, pushing Peter back the entire way; looking around for the both of them to ensure no one was paying any attention. “This is exactly why Susan Yang thinks you’re a male escort!”

Peter’s nervous laugh quickly became one of incredulity.

“Do you really have a taser?” Peter only stopped walking backwards once MJ came to a stop herself, though her hand stayed firm against the spider emblem on his chest. “Wait, Susan Yang thinks I’m a male escort?”

At first, MJ’s only response was a rapid nod of her head, and a sound that was most certainly supposed to be something coherent and understandable.

“Yeah!” she eventually managed, her throat bobbing hard with the clear struggle of swallowing the abundance of saliva that came with a near heart attack.

Peter’s eyes only narrowed in confusion. “Yeah to what?”

The every day ambience from the city life briefly filled the lull that fell over them, freezing time in a ridiculously exaggerated second — the kind that felt like an eternity being stretched out for dramatic effect. The honking traffic outside the alley seemed to join in on the playful suspense — Peter swore even the cars were holding their breath for who would say what next.

MJ flittered her eyes up and down — looking up at Peter, sans his mask, before her eyes flickered back down — where her fingertips pressed firmly against the black spider insignia center on his chest.

Not a second later, and Peter looked down at that same hand. As if just now realizing MJ was touching him, and had been all along.

“This…must…be…your new suit,” MJ slowly said, tapping his chest twice before finally removing her hand entirely — making sure to keep her grip on the brown lunch bag. “Very nice. The colors are…very new.”

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