#nevermind the fact that ive stayed in my office all day away from others with a mask on and my disinfectant wipes close

[dreams-of-sapphire-tears]

i cant fucking win

[nancywheelxr]

Omg omg omg omg plz do a Uncle Peter and Uncle Aaron fic

“You did what?” Uncle Aaron rasps, hand still pressing tight to his chest and slightly out of breath, and his expression is somewhere between anger and disbelief. On the other side of the room, Peter throws his hands up, mouth stuffed with a bagel.

Yup. That’s about what Miles expected.

Okay, he should probably back up a little and explain.

*

So, look, there are the facts:

The body of Aaron Davis never reached the morgue. The vehicle containing his body was shot out of the road exactly eight minutes after it left the alleyway. No suspects were apprehended and Officer Jefferson Davis was ordered to close the case twelve days later after all leads had gone cold. 

That had been nearly a year ago.

Now, here are some more– mildly less believable, but hey, last year the multiverse kinda went bananas, so who’s Miles to call anything crazy, right? – facts: 

Three weeks ago a grumpy wizard dumped Peter in Miles’ backyard. He had a cool cape, though, that Miles thinks might have waved at him at some point? Anyway, there was this wizard, right, and he dumped Peter in his mom’s hydrangeas and then he told Miles to keep an eye on Peter because Peter had apparently been cursed and couldn���t stay in their universe for the time being? No, he did not know when he’d be back to collect him, and no, he would not be taking criticisms on his plan right now.

It had all been very strange.

So yeah, that was a thing that happened. Apparently, Peter’s universe had been attacked by a sorcerer and Spider-Man got the wrong end of a particularly nasty banishing spell. 

“It was not my fault,” Peter had said, head halfway into Miles’ refrigerator, “if the Avengers could keep their damn villains of the week out of my neighborhood, then none of this would happen– hey, is the chili still good? No, you know what, nevermind, it probably is, let me just check the milk–”

And that had been that. 

“ – and you know, Harry Potter over there, didn’t have to just dump me here,” except, Peter had seemed to want to explain thoroughly what happened first, “I bet he could have just waved his hand and be done with it. He fixed the whole molecular-universe-rejection thing, didn’t he? Sorcerer Supreme, my–”

Miles had kind of zoned out after a while.

*

Those were the facts, see, and all of them were out of Miles’ hands, that’s a very important thing to notice.

*

So, since, Doctor Wizard hadn’t bothered to stay to hash out the finer details before peacing out back to his dimension, that left to Peter and Miles to figure out where to stash Peter while this whole mess was sorted out.

It’s not like Peter has a functioning social security number or even the money to buy some real state or pay any sort of rent. Sure, they could go to Aunt May’s place, but whenever Miles tried to bring it up, Peter got that weird face on, that looked kinda guilty and like, infinitely sad, and Miles didn’t have the heart to suggest it again.

Besides, he doesn’t think it would be good for May, not if this took a while.

Somehow, that ended up equaling with Peter squatting at Uncle Aaron’s old place.

It had seemed the logical conclusion, at the time. No one was using it and Miles’ dad hadn’t wanted to let go of it, not yet. Privately, Miles thinks it’s ‘cause his dad still hopes Uncle Aaron is out there, alive. The lack of a body to bury does that, he thinks, and wholeheartedly agrees with his dad.

If there’s still a chance, Miles would take it.

Anyway. So, Peter had been staying at Uncle Aaron’s place and being an all-around sorta cool mentor while helping out Miles with the whole superhero gig. 

It had really been just a matter of time until his parents caught up with it.

*

Again, let the record show, that while yes, Miles had been the one to come up with Uncle Peter, it had been Peter that came up with the marriage thing.

*

Another couple of facts to keep in mind:

Fours hours ago, Miles and Peter had busted another of Kingpin’s research facilities. Inside it, handcuffed to one of the beds, they had found Uncle Aaron recovering from surgery.

According to his retelling of events, that had been his twelfth procedure. Kingpin had been the one to pay for the Prowler gear, therefore, Kingpin owned the Prowler. Kingpin does not throw away expensive resources– not even the ones who needed open-chest surgery, blood transfusions, illegal not-yet-tested drugs, and too many lung surgeries. No, Uncle Aaron does not know what he had been planning to do with him once he recovered enough, but he figures it would be nothing good, probably blackmail him into working for him again.

Bringing him back to his old place had also brought up the fact that someone else had been living there.

Which brings them back to:

*

“Why the hell would you tell them that?” Uncle Aaron twitches, glaring at Peter like he wants to bring out his gear to saw him up a bit, “of all the all the– are you an idiot?”

Miles cringes. This is spiraling out of control fast. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal–”

“You think I want to be married to a Supervillain?” Peter, having swallowed his bagel, screams back at Uncle Aaron, seething with righteous anger, “I’m not exactly having the time of my life here either, pal!”

“Okay, I wouldn’t say he’s a supervillain, exactly,” Miles tries to placate him, “more like a henchman, maybe? And he’s totally reformed! Right, Uncle Aaron? Right?”

It’s not a real question, exactly, Miles knows that moment on Aunt May’s roof had been a turning point for his uncle, knows the second he let go of Miles, the second that bullet his chest, he wasn’t a bad guy anymore. He couldn’t be, not when his nephew was Spider-Man. 

And Miles would be damned if he wasn’t going to give his own uncle a second chance.

Still, as soon as the words leave Miles’ mouth, Uncle Aaron seems to deflate. He sighs, running a hand across his face before motioning Miles over. “C’mere, kid,” he waits until Miles is sitting beside him in the dusty couch, the white sheet used to cover it still on the floor by their feet. “Yeah, of course I’m reformed,” his mouth still twitches in amusement at the term, then falls into a grimace again, “and I’m so fucking sorry for the things I’ve done, even more for what I did to you. If I had known–” he shakes his head, “not that it makes that much better– but point is, you bet I’m done being a bad guy. I’ll never hurt anyone again, alright, and I’ll never hurt you, Miles, I’m so sorry for all of that.”

“Hey, erm,” Miles swallows past a lump he hadn’t noticed growing in his throat, and looks around, panicking at the sight of Uncle Aaron– cool, laid-back, fun Uncle Aaron– close to tears and looking wrecked by guilt. His eyes meet Peter’s across the room and he looks about as uncomfortable to be there as humanly possible, but he still gives Miles a thumbs up, smiling kindly. “It’s okay, Uncle Aaron. I know– you can do better now,” he finishes awkwardly, not quite able to stop himself from hugging him.

After a long pause, Miles feels his uncle returning the hug fiercely, holding him like he’s not yet sure this is all real. “You really are something else, kid.”

*

It had taken Miles and Peter half an hour to unhook Uncle Aaron from all the machines and monitors in his cell, and Miles had cried silently at how sick his uncle had looked and pretended not to notice the blood trail they left from where the IV tube had been hooked at the crook of his arm– Uncle Aaron had looked about to keel over and any blood wasted on the tiled floor had seemed alarming.

Peter had taken most of his weight and told Miles to go ahead make sure the hallway was clear. 

Not for the first time, Miles had wished Gwen was there, if only to bully him into being less sad.

*

“Okay,” Uncle Aaron says, huffing a little after they both had regained some sort of composure– ha! Check that out, composure, his English teacher would be thrilled with him using fancy words. “We still gotta figure this thing out.”

“I want a divorce,” Peter demands, standing with his hands on his hips, “I’m sorry but this just isn’t working out, babe.”

“Call me that again,” he warns, glaring, “and I’ll whoop your ass, lung surgery or not.”

Miles tries to picture it– breaking the news of Uncle Aaron’s return to his parents then the subsequent divorce. That would mean Peter would be homeless again and no more excuses to be hanging around Miles. ‘Sides, Peter leaving Uncle Aaron now that he’s sick would not look good. That would definitely be a problem if they want Peter to be able to stick around.

Well, shit.

“You can’t,” he blurts out, shrinking a little when both adults whirl on him, “I mean, you totally can, but it would make it so much harder because how are we gonna explain why Peter is always around? And mom kinda already likes him? She sends him casseroles sometimes, even though dad still grumbles about it.”

Uncle Aaron groans. “Of course she does,” he drops his head on his hands, “this is a mess.”

“Rio’s casseroles are delicious,” Peter admits, tilting his head thoughtfully towards the kitchen like that’s enough to make him reconsider this whole scheme.

“And I know dad is like, still annoyed you allegedly didn’t tell them about this,” Miles adds, “but I swear he’s trying to be more chill–”

“Hang on,” Uncle Aaron looks up, for the first time since they rescued him from the lab, seeming less defeated. His eyes are almost as bright as they were before, alight with something gleeful. “This would annoy the hell out of your old man, wouldn’t it?”

Miles blinks, a sense of impending doom encroaching like an inevitable storm that has nothing to do with his spider senses. “I guess?”

“Say,” he turns to Peter, giving him an assessing look, “spider-hobo, how about we strike a deal?”

“Okay, first off, I was dumped in this universe without warning, alright, it’s not like they let me pack a bag first,” Peter scowls, crossing his arms, “second, what kind of deal?”

“You need a place to stay and an excuse for my brother not to arrest you,” Uncle Aaron smirks, and Miles thinks he knows where this is going but he’s not sure how he feels about it, “and I could use a hand to keep watch, I’m sure Kingpin’s not gonna give up so soon.”

And it would have the bonus of annoying Miles’ dad which is Uncle Aaron’s favorite past time.

This is so spiraling out of control.

Peter squints. “So you want a bodyguard?”

“So you want not to be homeless?”

“Fine,” he huffs, throwing his hands up and rolling his eyes, “we’re married now, I guess. Hurray.”

“Please, you should be happy,” Uncle Aaron sits back, stretching his legs under the coffee table, “you are married to me.”

That sends Peter into another inflamed rant. “Look, I’m a goddamn catch–”

Man, Miles groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is going to be a disaster and with his luck, it’s going to snowball into something huge before it bursts into flames. Again, he wishes fiercely Gwen was there, he bets at least she’d get a kick out of this.

Faintly, he hears Uncle Aaron ignoring Peter in favor to nudge his feet. “Hey, kid, do me a favor and don’t mention to your dad I cursed in front of you, yeah?”

Across the table, Peter snatches another bagel, biting into it with a vengeance.

[longlivemystories]

Moonlit Strolls

Wednesday

     4 a.m.

    Rigorous questioning from the police had left me exhausted, but now that I was home and in clean clothes, I found I had some problems sleeping. I kept thinking about everything, really, but the gun shot was clearest in my mind. It was so loud and so sudden that every time it would suddenly rear up, I physically jumped. Begrudgingly, I crawled out of bed and into the kitchen. Tea would probably make me feel better.

    So would some intense research.

    Once I had a cup of my favorite Linden tea, I curled up on the couch with my laptop. The poor thing hadn't been used in a little while and it was a damn shame. I spent a lot of money on it some time ago and barely had any time to use it due to work and being so fatigued from the day.

    Okay, okay... so, what were somethings that could cause red eyes? No, not that kind of red eyes... I tapped my chin, trying to find a better way to word the question. What could cause red irises? Quite a few search results came up with albinism. I mean, maybe, if that tall guy didn't have black hair... Okay, what could cause glowing red eyes? I choked a little bit on my tea, although I honestly should have expected it.

    Vampires.

    Okay, yeah, that was nuts. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. This whole thing seemed a little crazy to be honest, but what else could it be? So, yeah, fine, I'd delve into this mostly ridiculous idea. There was so many different tales and fables on vampires. Narrowing down my search, I added London to the search engine. Suddenly, news reports were coming up. The attacks? Apparently more and more people were trying to say it was vampires causing the attacks and honestly that didn't seem so far fetched considering the growing amount of evidence.

    Another thought crossed my mind and I looked up that guy, Frank Jillian. He was pretty famous, it seemed. Some sort of billionaire with magic, disappearing cancer. The guy hadn't seemed so sick, but the news reports were saying there was no trace of the cancer in the autopsy. How does stage IV cancer suddenly just disappear?

    I yawned and rubbed my eye tiredly. 5 a.m. now. I had to be up in an hour, so maybe another, colder shower would wake me up.

    "I'm so sorry, Ollie," Jake apologized quickly and loudly as soon as I came through the door to our floor's office.

    "Er... it's fine, Jake," I mumbled, downing the last of my coffee. "It's not like you knew that would happen..." I added, walking towards my office.

    "But I was the one who pressured you into going last night. I really am sorry, Ollie," Jake added, a small whimper in his voice.

    "Jake, please... It's... okay... Besides, he was there."

    "He? As in... As in Hottie McHotStuff?" Jake inquired, perking up at this news. "How do you know? Wait a minute was he? Was he the crazy gunman?" he asked with a gasp.

    "I don't know about crazy, but he was definitely the gunman," I told him, turning on my computer. "You didn't happen to get a good look at him, did you?"

    "No, sorry, darling," Jake sighed softly, leaning against my door frame.

    "What about that guy who was shot?"

    "You mean the one who bought you a drink?" Jake clarified, tapping his chin. "Now that you mention it, no, I didn't... I only saw him after uhm... well, you know."

    "That's okay..." I replied, hanging my head somewhat. "I just wasn't... well... nevermind, it's not important."

    "Ollie, darling, you don't look like you got a wink of sleep last night," my friend commented, moving over to the desk. "Are you sure you shouldn't go home today?"

    "No chance," I snorted. "There's just too much going on this week and Ms. Jillian would probably cut my throat if I wasn't here to get shit done."

   “At least let me buy you a coffee or something. You look like you might pass out."

    "Yeah, okay..."

    I watched my taller friend leave, spacing out for only a moment before my phone rang. Here goes nothing.

    "The wicked bitch can stand one morning of confusion, Ollie," Jake told me impatiently, watching as I clearly had no intention of stopping my work to leave for the day.

    "You know she can't, Jake, now get out of here or else it'll be Sammy who's confused," I said, glancing up at him before finishing my written thought.

    "You shouldn't stay so late and you know it," he mumbled, arms crossed. "Just... well-lit streets, okay?"

    "Of course, mom," I responded, waving at him until he left my sights.

    He was right, though. I wasn't getting much sleep, if any at all, and it felt like it was taking a toll on my performance. Surprisingly, Ms. Juniper hadn't said a word about my slacking, so maybe she did have a heart after all.

    About an hour later and I finally finished the work. I laid the stack of papers on her desk and, like usual, locked the door behind me. I felt so exhausted that I might actually get to sleep tonight. The cool air hit my face again and I shivered, tying my scarf tighter around my face. At least I remembered my boots for once.

    Oh shit.

    I groaned, turning and heading back into the building. I had to be freaking kidding me. Of course I'd forget the notes. She'd kill me if she had to read through the thick version of my assessment that was just filled with a heavier syntax to distract the higher ups from the fact that everyone seemed to be overspending this quarter. I took the steps two at a time, the elevator having been turned off since it was after 5 p.m. I unlocked the main office door once I reached our level and hurried in.

    I passed the hall to go into the bullpen and stopped. What the hell was that sound? I shivered, the suckling and squelching noises causing my stomach to churn. Did I really want to investigate? With what happened the past few times, my mind told me no, but my curiosity was apparently relentless. I slowly turned and made my way down the short hallway and into the bullpen, full of desks and chairs. There were two people at Jake's desk. One seemingly sitting on the other's lap. They were close, locked together as though locked in a very private moment. I knew I should have turned back, fearful of interrupting something personal, but there was just a feeling of wrong here.

    "H-Hello?"

    A head whipped towards me and glowing red eyes stopped my heart. Oh... Oh yeah, I'm regretting coming into work today. I took a few steps back, chest heaving uneasily. I let out a whimper when I backed into something, or rather someone judging by the feel. I looked up to see a grinning man with fiery sunglasses staring down at me.

    "Good evening, Red," he greeted. "I thought we might meet again."

    "W-What--"

    "Alucard," hissed the other, who started to stand now.

    She wiped her face and I shuddered. By the light of the moon, I saw that was my boss, Ms. Juniper. The only physical difference I could tell was her eye color had changed, but there was a weird aura coming from her and it froze my blood. My eyes flickered to the person in the chair and I felt a lump form in my throat.

    Jake.

    I pressed up against the man, wanting nothing more than to just run away from the situation. My eyes were stinging and it was becoming harder to see.

    "My reputation proceeds me," responded the tall man, still grinning a sharp-toothed grin.

    "Step away from the boy and we won't have a problem," she told him rather suddenly, moving closer to us.

    "And here I thought I'd actually have a challenge," Alucard sighed wistfully, bringing his gun up to aim it at Ms. Juniper. "I wouldn't go to work tomorrow," he whispered down at me, sunglasses tilting so I could see his eyes.

    Before I had time to respond, he took my arm and moved me aside so he could advance, gun already shooting. I covered my ears, heart racing again as I tried to decide what to do. Finally, I decided on running out of the bullpen and towards the exit. Holy shit this was really happening. I tripped over my own feet and down I went. Thank God, too, because a bullet whizzed passed where my head would have been. I looked back in time to see my boss's face contorted and snarling, clawed hands reaching out towards me before her head was blown apart. Blood and other organic matter splattered my yet again and I scooched away from where she landed.

    "Half breeds," Alucard muttered, moving closer now and putting a bullet through her chest. He looked back up at me now and grinned again, holstering his weapons. "My Master would like for you to come back with me, to have tests done."

    I sat silently for a minute, eyes wide and breath shallow. Suddenly, I jumped up and burst through the door to the stairs. My foot slipped on the edge of one of the stairs and I closed my eyes shut, waiting for the impending pain, but it never came. I slowly opened my eyes to see the floor, about a foot away from my feet. Alucard lightly set me down and turned me around.

    "Are you done?"

    "W-What do they want with me?" I sputtered, taking a few steps backwards.

    He started to lean in, but when I took another step backwards, I tripped and fell onto the stairs. The red-eyed man stared at me intently for a moment, before just grinning.

    "Who knows?"