Jun 14, 2015 12:28 PM: Peter Parker, moving to the Avengers' Northbay training compound, stops at Bob’s burger joint for a MuTINDER date, only to sense trouble brewing as the diner struggles with local enforcers tied to "The Big Man."
DATE
Jun 14, 2015 12:28 PM
CLIME
wi-cloudy
TEMP
72 °
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SCENESET
AFTERNOON;
Peter Parker adjusted the strap of his backpack, his fingers brushing against the fabric of his Spider-Man suit hidden inside. Moving out of Queens was a strange feeling. The familiar streets, Aunt May’s warm kitchen, and the chaotic rhythm of New York City had been his world for as long as he could remember. Now, he was trading it all for something bigger—the Champions Initiative. It was the New Avengers’ training program, and Peter, the youngest recruit, was heading to their compound in Northbay, upstate New York.
Northbay was a world away from anything Peter had ever known. The compound was sleek and sprawling, equipped with state-of-the-art technology and filled with people whose abilities made even Spider-Man feel like the new kid on the block. But before he stepped into that new chapter, there was one last detour.
His phone had buzzed earlier that day, lighting up with a notification from MuTINDER, the quirky dating app infamous for crashing during Republican conventions but still wildly popular. Peter had matched with someone whose bio had caught his attention—something about astrophysics and burgers. Against his better judgment, he’d agreed to meet them at Bob’s, a local burger joint with a reputation for greasy fries and legendary milkshakes.
When Peter arrived at Bob’s, though, something felt off. The retro decor and smell of grilled burgers couldn’t mask the tension in the air. The staff seemed unusually jittery, and Peter’s sharp ears picked up on murmured conversations about overdue payments to "The Big Man." Bob’s wasn’t just a burger joint—it was caught in the web of a local crime ring.
As Peter pushed open the door, his Spider-Sense prickled faintly, though not enough to set him fully on edge. He glanced around the room, scanning for the person he was supposed to meet, but they hadn’t arrived yet—or if they had, Peter hadn’t spotted them. For now, all he could do was wait, though he had a nagging feeling that tonight would be about more than burgers and small talk.
Somewhere between leaving Queens and stepping into this diner, Peter’s life had taken another turn. A new adventure was unfolding—both in his personal life and in the challenges that seemed to follow him everywhere.
What happens next? Does Peter’s date arrive? Does trouble find him first? It’s your turn to continue the story!
Jonesy:: Jonesy was walking down Ocean Avenue when he heard a crack of lightning high above. The absence of rain meant one of two things: either a storm was about to break, which didn’t bother Jonesy since he thought he looked rather good in a wet T-shirt, or Electro—or some other super-nuisance—was lurking nearby, tearing up the Midtown pavement. Being neither a native New Yorker nor someone lacking common sense, the possibility of Electro was more than enough to prompt Jonesy to seek shelter in the first hospitable place he could find. That place turned out to be a shawarma shop, and, luckily, it was open. He slipped inside just as a sudden cloudburst erupted outside.
From the safety of the restaurant, Jonesy turned to watch the deluge with amazement. The rain was coming down so heavily that it reminded him of New Orleans. As he stared, mesmerized by the downpour, he began to back away slowly, still taking in the natural spectacle. In doing so, he accidentally bumped into someone. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with a stranger who bore a slight resemblance to himself. They exchanged a few words, falling into casual conversation.
A few minutes later, a young hostess approached them. She wore a green dress and a well-worn pink knitted hat adorned with bunny ears. With a polite but distracted tone, she asked if they would like to be seated. The stranger beside Jonesy glanced at him, shook his head, and abruptly turned to leave, darting out into the rain without another word.
Jonesy, now alone, turned back to the hostess and offered a sheepish smile. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait here for a few minutes to see if the rain lets up,” he said.
The hostess shrugged and replied, “Well, if you wanna take a seat at the counter, we can get you a coffee. It’s cheap, and you can stay as long as you like. Otherwise, hit the road, Jack. This ain’t no boarding house, you know.”
Jonesy looked out the window at the torrential rain, then up at the clock on the wall, and finally back at the hostess. With a small shrug, he said, “Alright… My date hasn’t arrived yet anyway. I’ll take a coffee—two sugars, please.”
“Alright, alright, don’t get pushy,” the hostess shot back. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”
Jonesy glanced around the nearly empty restaurant, biting his tongue as he made his way to the counter. He sat down and turned to watch the rain continue to pour outside, waiting patiently for whatever came next.
NOTES:: The person who Jonesy had the bump-in with and quickly departed was actually Peter's blind date! Jonesy told him that he was Peter and stated he had some STDs to get the guy to leave thinking he wasn't right for Peter whom he has never met.
Spider-Man:: Peter was nervous as he walked into the diner. He’d tried dating before in the past. Men and Women. Felicia, Gwen, Mary Jane, Harry, and more. But nothing had lasted. He had more exes that became friends and a few that never wanted to see him again.
His friends had talked him into trying this app and he's decided to give it a try. He didn’t want to end up alone like his aunt. After losing Uncle Ben his aunt hadn’t tried dating again. He mentioned it once and she said it was too painful as sometimes she woke up forgetting he was dead for a moment. He couldn’t blame her. He missed his uncle too.
He took a seat at the table spotting a very hot guy talking to a waitress and blushes realizing he was staring. He wasn’t sure if he was the one he was supposed to meet but he decided he’d ask. He walked over to the other man.
“Hey. I’m Peter. Are you my date?” replied Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy sat on a stool at the diner’s counter, fingers idly drumming against the surface as he waited. The place had a cozy, old-school charm—warm lighting, checkered floors, and the ever-present hum of conversation blending with the clinking of dishes. He wasn’t sure what to expect from a blind date, but MuTINDER had matched him with someone named Pete, and based on the picture Jonesy had seen, he figured they were at least worth sticking around for a looksie. He had liked the guy’s profile header too, even if it was on the short side: “A science nerd with a love for bad movies and swinging through life one step at a time.”
Jonesy just hoped this Peter guy wasn’t short. He’d dated a few short guys recently, and they had all been kind of whimpy—definitely not his type. He wanted someone a little more solid, maybe the strong, silent type. Tall would be nice too, he mused, just as the door swung open.
Before Jonesy could turn to look, the head waitress let out a knowing sigh, nudging her son, Gene, in the side.
“Awhhh, would you look at that? Isn’t that special—those two boys just found each other.”
Gene, slightly portly and always armed with a dry wit, smirked. “Yeah, maybe they’re each other’s lobsters, as Tina would put it, Mother.”
Jonesy barely heard them, though he shot them a certain look before focusing all his attention on the man walking toward him.
Peter.
He immediately got points for nice eyes and nice hair.
Jonesy had expected someone a little nerdier, maybe even a bit awkward—after all, the guy had called himself a science nerd—but this Peter Person was not what he had imagined. He was handsome. Seriously handsome. Tousled brown hair, sharp yet boyish features, and eyes that caught the light just right, making it hard to tell if they were hazel or an incredibly deep brown. Then there was the rest of him—broad shoulders, a solid chest that was noticeable even under a casual hoodie, and a natural, effortless grace to his movements. A gymnast? Maybe. Something about the way he carried himself suggested control, precision—someone used to moving fast and landing on his feet.
Jonesy swallowed, forcing himself to play it cool as Peter Person approached.
“Hey,” Peter greeted, flashing a warm, easy smile.
Jonesy returned it, hoping he didn’t look like he was staring too much.
“Hey yourself. Peter Person, right?”
Spider-Man:: Peter raised an eyebrow at finding lobsters only hearing part of it. What a weird restaurant. But not any weirder than the rest of New York.
He saw the guy was looking at him and Peter blushed. No one looked at him that way and he was flattered and humbled. With bullies like Flash around he’d supposed most saw him as a nerd or a loser. This date was already improving his self confidence.
“Yep. I'm Peter. I'm glad you’re here. I’ve been ghosted before. Maybe my luck’s changing.” Replied Peter.
He sat down next to him and grinned.
“Want to find a booth for more privacy or you want to stay here?” asked Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy grinned, resting his chin in his hand as he took a moment to just look at Peter. Sharp, intelligent eyes, an adorable blush, and a nervous energy that practically crackled around him like static electricity. Yeah, Jonesy had a feeling this was going to be fun.
“Ghosted? Man, that’s just tragic. Someone out there really fumbled the bag,” he said, shaking his head dramatically. “Their loss, my gain.”
He stretched lazily, then leaned in just a bit, as if getting a better read on Peter. There was something about him—something different. Not just the kind of different that came with being an adorable nerd with a sweet smile, but something… more. A spark in his energy, like an unreadable frequency buzzing just beneath the surface. Jonesy didn’t know what it was, but he liked it.
At Peter’s question, he chuckled and drummed his fingers against the table. “Privacy, huh? What exactly are you planning, Parker?” he teased, winking before sliding to his feet. “Nah, I get it. A little space from the chaos.” He gestured grandly toward the weirder aspects of the restaurant—lobsters included.
Jonesy brushed his hand against Peter’s arm as he moved past him, casual but deliberate, only to pause mid-step. His fingers lingered for just a second longer, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Whoa—okay, damn,” he said, giving Peter an appraising once-over. “Do you, like, do gymnastics or something? ‘Cause your arm is solid. Like, deceptively strong. I was expecting, y’know, cute nerd vibes, not ‘I could casually do a backflip off this table’ energy.”
He gave Peter a teasing smirk, flexing his own arm dramatically. “Seriously, I think you might be stronger than me, my dad was very much into fitness. He thought childhood should include sunrise yoga and protein shakes.” He reached out, palm open and nudged Peter's chest playfully. “So, c’mon, what’s your secret? Spider bites? Ancient mystic training? Secret double life? ” slipping off the stool he was perched on so that he was standing on the floor and smiled a little wider. Nice shoulders. Kind a tall. Handsome. Probably has one of those surprise slipper builds which was the kind of physical build Jonesy found to be the most appealing.
He then added "Oh wow, that's some chest you've got hidden away in there.. you must be a gymnast yes? I don't know why i just get this sort of swing on ropes vibe from you all of sudden. Very hot fyi." Jonesy locked eyes with Peter as he smiled at Peter.
His tone was joking, light, but the curiosity in his gaze was real. Because whatever it was, this Peter Person was definitely more than he seemed.
Spider-Man:: Peter blushed a bit at the compliment.
"You're the first person to think like that. Even my exes that ended on good terms it's still akward." replied Peter.
Peter chuckled.
"I guess I want you all to myself. People in here talking about lobsters and I don't want someone else to take my date away." said Peter.
Peter grinned at the appraisal.
"I do some workouts every night. Jogging. I used to be a skinny kid but I got motivated to get better. My uncle..”
Peter trailed off and sighed.
"He got killed in a mugging. I vowed to not let that happen again if I was there. Getting fit enough to knock someone out or run away. Rather lose a wallet than my life." mentioned Peter.
Peter blushed again and grinned.
“Thank you. One day I just woke up like this and was surprised by how far I came. From the skinny nerd to a stronger nerd.” replied Peter.
He grinned as he spotted a nearby empty table and led him \over.
“I’m glad we got an empty table. Although I could spend the whole date just looking at you.” said Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy’s grin softened just a little, something warm flickering behind his eyes as he listened to Peter. There was a sincerity to him, something real beneath the jokes and easy smiles. That little sigh, the way he hesitated—it wasn’t just small talk. And despite Jonesy’s usual devil-may-care attitude, he wasn’t oblivious to when something mattered.
But then Peter grinned again, his cheeks dusted pink, and Jonesy felt his heart do an unexpected little flip.
Adorkable. That was the only way to describe him. Earnest, a little shy, but so damn handsome in a way that snuck up on you. He had that whole “unassuming nerd who could secretly bench-press you” thing going on, and yeah, Jonesy was absolutely into it.
He followed Peter to the empty table, sliding into his seat with an easy sprawl. “Man, Parker, you really know how to flatter a guy,” he said, resting his chin in his palm. “I’m starting to think I should be the one getting nervous here.”
His fingers drummed idly on the table as he studied Peter, open appreciation in his gaze. “Also, the whole ‘from skinny nerd to stronger nerd’ thing? Very much working for you. You’ve got this whole ‘mild-mannered Clark Kent’ vibe going on, and, not gonna lie? Kinda hot.”
Jonesy smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “And, uh, just putting this out there? You’re, like, ridiculously charming. Didn’t expect that. Thought I’d be the one doing all the smooth talking, but nope, here you are, making me feel like I should be twirling my hair and kicking my feet.”
He kicked his foot lightly against Peter’s under the table, playful, but deliberate. “Since you’re so worried about someone stealing your date away, better make it official,” he teased, tapping the table between them. “I’ll even let you pick—hand-holding? Arm-over-the-shoulder move? Or, dare I say, the most dangerous of all… the casual thigh touch?”
His tone was joking, but underneath, there was something real. Because yeah, Peter Parker? Definitely someone worth getting to know.
Spider-Man::
Peter chuckled.
"Then I'm glad it's working." replied Peter.
He grinned.
"Superman was always one of my favorite heroes. Read some comics and as many tv shows and movies of Superman I could find. So I see it as an honor." said Peter.
Peter blushed at the praise.
"You think I'm charming? You're definitely a keeper." mentioned Peter.
Peter paused leaning closer and touched their thigh. His curiosity peaked he squeezed once and grinned.
"Whoa. You're built stronger too." replied Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy let out a low laugh, eyes sparkling as he leaned back slightly, studying Peter. “Oh, you’re definitely working that ‘Superman’ thing, huh? But I gotta say, I see it. I gym a little, yeah, but something about you says you gym a whole lot more,” he said, giving Peter an appraising glance. “That strength of yours—it’s got that ‘I could probably save the world in a single leap’ vibe, which... honestly? Pretty hot.”
He winked at Peter, his smile teasing but genuine. “Guess I’m the lucky one tonight, huh? I mean, charming and strong? You’re basically a superhero yourself.”
Jonesy paused to smile a breif flirty smile, then added "Who knows, next time I get in trouble maybe I'll get lucky and you swing by and save me? I should probably make sure I save you're number... So what's you're last name Pete? My last name is Jones by the by. Most folks call em Jonesy like after the cat from the original Alien movie. First name is Hal, which is short for Halaluah - long story don't ask."
Spider-Man:: Peter chuckled.
"Maybe I should star wearing glasses." joked Peter.
He grinned.
"Thank you. I jog as often as I can. I don't get to work out a much with school. But it's nice to do it when I can." replied Peter.
He blushed as the other winked at him.
"Maybe we're both lucky." said Peter.
Peter nodded.
"Well we could work out sometime. Maybe you'll end up saving me. Heroes often get into trouble." mentioned Peter.
Peter grinned again at the question.
"Parker." replied Peter.
He raised an eyebrow.
"I need to watch that film. Your first name is Hal? Just like the Green Lantern. Cool. But I'll still call you Jonesy if that's what you wish." said Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy’s grin widened when Peter mentioned tomorrow. “Tomorrow sounds perfect. But…” He leaned in, voice dropping into that warm, teasing register again. “Just so you know, if I’m hanging out tonight—and I totally am—I actually brought a change of clothes. And, uh, a med kit. I don’t know why. Something in the stars just screamed ‘minor injuries and possible sleepover,’ so I packed accordingly.”
He patted the side of his beat-up messenger bag slung across him, like it was a perfectly reasonable thing to carry on a first date. “So I’m good to stay. We can do movies, fake-study, maybe share one of those romantic burgers, nap aggressively—but…”
He leaned closer now, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret from the spirit realm.
“There’s gotta be smoochage. Mandatory. Like, if you go see Roan Chappell and she doesn’t open with Pink Pony Club? You walk right out. Same deal here. I hang with you, I get at least one kiss. Universe demands it.”
Peter barely had time to react before a shadow loomed.
From the front of the diner, a large, imposing man in a leather jacket stepped forward. “Hey. Kid. Go get Bob.”
Gene, standing by the fryer with a burger hat on his head and a squirt bottle of ketchup mid-air, blinked. “Wait. You mean like… my dad Bob? The grill dad? Ketchup Bob? Beefy Bob?” His voice cracked with the weight of sudden doom, like he was being asked to deliver someone’s last rites. He clutched a spatula like it was a microphone and squinted at the Big Man. “This feels like a trap. Is this a burger-based sting operation?”
“Just get him,” the Big Man growled, low and firm.
Gene screamed, “DAAAAAD! THERE’S A MAN OUT HERE WHO SAYS YOUR NAME LIKE HE KNOWS WHERE WE KEEP THE BODY!”
From behind the grill, Bob’s head popped up, instantly alarmed. “What?! What body?! Gene, what body?!”
Before Bob could even get an answer, Linda hustled over, hands already gesturing, lipstick fierce and hopeful. “Hiya! I’m Bob’s wife—what can I do for ya, hon? You want a refill? You need a burger with, like, extra pickles to calm you down?”
The man didn’t even blink. “Get Bob. Now.”
Linda’s face froze for a beat before she backed up with her trademark sing-song panic. “Okay! Yikes! Honestly, I—I feel like I don’t know the ‘on’ of it!”
Bob jogged up from behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron, face already shiny with stress. “Okay, okay, I’m here! Look, if this is about the payment, I—I just need a little more time, okay? The rent’s due, and we’re short again, and the fryer blew out on Tuesday, and Tina ordered like a very unnecessary amount of matcha powder for some reason, and—”
Linda turned to Bob, shocked. “Bobby! What payment? Since when are we doing payments? What’s happening!? Are we being extorted? Are we in the mob now? Is this like a family thing? Am I a mob wife? Because I need time to emotionally prepare for that!”
Louise popped up from a nearby booth. “I knew this place had a shakedown vibe. Gene, we gotta weaponize the mustard again.”
Gene grabbed the mustard bottle and pointed it like a squirt gun. “You’ll never take my dad alive!”
The Big Man didn’t even flinch. “You’ve got three days, Bob. No more excuses.”
Jonesy watched the entire thing unfold like he’d just been given dessert and dinner at the same time. He leaned closer to Peter, whispering, “This is... weirdly romantic? Like I feel like this date is plot rich. And I’m into it.”
He gave Peter’s hand a little squeeze, his voice softening again. “You, by the way? HTG. Hot to gaze at. Certified. So yes to another date. Yes to study hangouts. And yes to kissing. Preferably before Louise rigs the soda machine to explode.”
Then, leaning in with a smirk and spark in his eyes, he added, “So... wanna get that smooch in before the Belchers accidentally become accomplices to racketeering?”
TRANSLATION::
NOTES:: Add to this the entrance of "Fancy" Dan, a diminutive gunman; Montana, a whip expert who generally wears a cowboy hat and trench coat; and Ox, a gigantic strongman, were his personal muscle.r, aka, a terrible trio of enforcers on behalf Wilson Fisk, who are led by Big Man who is overseeing The Kingpin's takeover of area from another mobster; Mr Big /The Big Man is not there - their entry has Bob and LInda noteable nervous
Spider-Man:: Peter grinned.
"I never followed mine. Maybe I should have. Getting to meet you is definitely an event." replied Peter.
Peter forgot they weren't alone hearing the family who ran the place.
"Well our first date technically. One of many I hope." said Peter.
He chuckled at their antics and shrugged.
"Well it can't hurt to try the burger. I heard Bob's Burgers has the best burgers in town. So I'm really glad I get to try it today." mentioned Peter.
Peter nodded at the question.
"I guess I'd love any date with you. But gym would be great. Working out and with my boyfriend while doing it." replied Peter.
Peter chuckled.
"Well I'm in school. I'm a bit of a nerd but I'm in college studying under Dr. Conners. Chemistry, and well science in general I guess. And I started a hobby of photography. And a way to pay bills. Taking photos of Spiderman. Daily Bugle pays a lot for them. I don't care what Jameson says though. Spiderman is a hero to me." said Peter.
He paused at his question again of another date.
"How about tomorrow? I got some studying tonight. Unless you want to watch movies while I study and do homework." mentioned Peter.
Peter gasped feeling his fingers on his hand.
"I wouldn't because then you'd have to go home. I guess I'd want this date to last as long as we could." replied Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy’s grin softened just a little, something warm flickering behind his eyes as he listened to Peter. There was a sincerity to him, something real beneath the jokes and easy smiles. That little sigh, the way he hesitated—it wasn’t just small talk. And despite Jonesy’s usual devil-may-care attitude, he wasn’t oblivious to when something mattered.
But then Peter grinned again, his cheeks dusted pink, and Jonesy felt his heart do an unexpected little flip.
Adorkable. That was the only way to describe him. Earnest, a little shy, but so damn handsome in a way that snuck up on you. He had that whole “unassuming nerd who could secretly bench-press you” thing going on, and yeah, Jonesy was absolutely into it.
He followed Peter to the empty table, sliding into his seat with an easy sprawl. “Man, Parker, you really know how to flatter a guy,” he said, resting his chin in his palm. “I’m starting to think I should be the one getting nervous here.”
His fingers drummed idly on the table as he studied Peter, open appreciation in his gaze. “Also, the whole ‘from skinny nerd to stronger nerd’ thing? Very much working for you. You’ve got this whole ‘mild-mannered Clark Kent’ vibe going on, and, not gonna lie? Kinda hot.”
Jonesy smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “And, uh, just putting this out there? You’re, like, ridiculously charming. Didn’t expect that. Thought I’d be the one doing all the smooth talking, but nope, here you are, making me feel like I should be twirling my hair and kicking my feet.”
He kicked his foot lightly against Peter’s under the table, playful, but deliberate. “Since you’re so worried about someone stealing your date away, better make it official,” he teased, tapping the table between them. “I’ll even let you pick—hand-holding? Arm-over-the-shoulder move? Or, dare I say, the most dangerous of all… the casual thigh touch?”
His tone was joking, but underneath, there was something real. Because yeah, Peter Parker? Definitely someone worth getting to know.
Spider-Man::
Peter chuckled.
"Then I'm glad it's working." replied Peter.
He grinned.
"Superman was always one of my favorite heroes. Read some comics and as many tv shows and movies of Superman I could find. So I see it as an honor." said Peter.
Peter blushed at the praise.
"You think I'm charming? You're definitely a keeper." mentioned Peter.
Peter paused leaning closer and touched their thigh. His curiosity peaked he squeezed once and grinned.
"Whoa. You're built stronger too." replied Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy grinned, resting his chin in his hand as he took a moment to just look at Peter. Sharp, intelligent eyes, an adorable blush, and a nervous energy that practically crackled around him like static electricity. Yeah, Jonesy had a feeling this was going to be fun.
“Ghosted? Man, that’s just tragic. Someone out there really fumbled the bag,” he said, shaking his head dramatically. “Their loss, my gain.”
He stretched lazily, then leaned in just a bit, as if getting a better read on Peter. There was something about him—something different. Not just the kind of different that came with being an adorable nerd with a sweet smile, but something… more. A spark in his energy, like an unreadable frequency buzzing just beneath the surface. Jonesy didn’t know what it was, but he liked it.
At Peter’s question, he chuckled and drummed his fingers against the table. “Privacy, huh? What exactly are you planning, Parker?” he teased, winking before sliding to his feet. “Nah, I get it. A little space from the chaos.” He gestured grandly toward the weirder aspects of the restaurant—lobsters included.
Jonesy brushed his hand against Peter’s arm as he moved past him, casual but deliberate, only to pause mid-step. His fingers lingered for just a second longer, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Whoa—okay, damn,” he said, giving Peter an appraising once-over. “Do you, like, do gymnastics or something? ‘Cause your arm is solid. Like, deceptively strong. I was expecting, y’know, cute nerd vibes, not ‘I could casually do a backflip off this table’ energy.”
He gave Peter a teasing smirk, flexing his own arm dramatically. “Seriously, I think you might be stronger than me, my dad was very much into fitness. He thought childhood should include sunrise yoga and protein shakes.” He reached out, palm open and nudged Peter's chest playfully. “So, c’mon, what’s your secret? Spider bites? Ancient mystic training? Secret double life? ” slipping off the stool he was perched on so that he was standing on the floor and smiled a little wider. Nice shoulders. Kind a tall. Handsome. Probably has one of those surprise slipper builds which was the kind of physical build Jonesy found to be the most appealing.
He then added "Oh wow, that's some chest you've got hidden away in there.. you must be a gymnast yes? I don't know why i just get this sort of swing on ropes vibe from you all of sudden. Very hot fyi." Jonesy locked eyes with Peter as he smiled at Peter.
His tone was joking, light, but the curiosity in his gaze was real. Because whatever it was, this Peter Person was definitely more than he seemed.
Spider-Man:: Peter blushed a bit at the compliment.
"You're the first person to think like that. Even my exes that ended on good terms it's still akward." replied Peter.
Peter chuckled.
"I guess I want you all to myself. People in here talking about lobsters and I don't want someone else to take my date away." said Peter.
Peter grinned at the appraisal.
"I do some workouts every night. Jogging. I used to be a skinny kid but I got motivated to get better. My uncle..”
Peter trailed off and sighed.
"He got killed in a mugging. I vowed to not let that happen again if I was there. Getting fit enough to knock someone out or run away. Rather lose a wallet than my life." mentioned Peter.
Peter blushed again and grinned.
“Thank you. One day I just woke up like this and was surprised by how far I came. From the skinny nerd to a stronger nerd.” replied Peter.
He grinned as he spotted a nearby empty table and led him \over.
“I’m glad we got an empty table. Although I could spend the whole date just looking at you.” said Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy grinned, resting his chin in his hand as he took a moment to just look at Peter. Sharp, intelligent eyes, an adorable blush, and a nervous energy that practically crackled around him like static electricity. Yeah, Jonesy had a feeling this was going to be fun.
“Ghosted? Man, that’s just tragic. Someone out there really fumbled the bag,” he said, shaking his head dramatically. “Their loss, my gain.”
He stretched lazily, then leaned in just a bit, as if getting a better read on Peter. There was something about him—something different. Not just the kind of different that came with being an adorable nerd with a sweet smile, but something… more. A spark in his energy, like an unreadable frequency buzzing just beneath the surface. Jonesy didn’t know what it was, but he liked it.
At Peter’s question, he chuckled and drummed his fingers against the table. “Privacy, huh? What exactly are you planning, Parker?” he teased, winking before sliding to his feet. “Nah, I get it. A little space from the chaos.” He gestured grandly toward the weirder aspects of the restaurant—lobsters included.
Jonesy brushed his hand against Peter’s arm as he moved past him, casual but deliberate, only to pause mid-step. His fingers lingered for just a second longer, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Whoa—okay, damn,” he said, giving Peter an appraising once-over. “Do you, like, do gymnastics or something? ‘Cause your arm is solid. Like, deceptively strong. I was expecting, y’know, cute nerd vibes, not ‘I could casually do a backflip off this table’ energy.”
He gave Peter a teasing smirk, flexing his own arm dramatically. “Seriously, I think you might be stronger than me, my dad was very much into fitness. He thought childhood should include sunrise yoga and protein shakes.” He reached out, palm open and nudged Peter's chest playfully. “So, c’mon, what’s your secret? Spider bites? Ancient mystic training? Secret double life? ” slipping off the stool he was perched on so that he was standing on the floor and smiled a little wider. Nice shoulders. Kind a tall. Handsome. Probably has one of those surprise slipper builds which was the kind of physical build Jonesy found to be the most appealing.
He then added "Oh wow, that's some chest you've got hidden away in there.. you must be a gymnast yes? I don't know why i just get this sort of swing on ropes vibe from you all of sudden. Very hot fyi." Jonesy locked eyes with Peter as he smiled at Peter.
His tone was joking, light, but the curiosity in his gaze was real. Because whatever it was, this Peter Person was definitely more than he seemed.
Spider-Man:: Peter blushed a bit at the compliment.
"You're the first person to think like that. Even my exes that ended on good terms it's still akward." replied Peter.
Peter chuckled.
"I guess I want you all to myself. People in here talking about lobsters and I don't want someone else to take my date away." said Peter.
Peter grinned at the appraisal.
"I do some workouts every night. Jogging. I used to be a skinny kid but I got motivated to get better. My uncle..”
Peter trailed off and sighed.
"He got killed in a mugging. I vowed to not let that happen again if I was there. Getting fit enough to knock someone out or run away. Rather lose a wallet than my life." mentioned Peter.
Peter blushed again and grinned.
“Thank you. One day I just woke up like this and was surprised by how far I came. From the skinny nerd to a stronger nerd.” replied Peter.
He grinned as he spotted a nearby empty table and led him \over.
“I’m glad we got an empty table. Although I could spend the whole date just looking at you.” said Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy’s grin widened when Peter mentioned tomorrow. “Tomorrow sounds perfect. But…” He leaned in, voice dropping into that warm, teasing register again. “Just so you know, if I’m hanging out tonight—and I totally am—I actually brought a change of clothes. And, uh, a med kit. I don’t know why. Something in the stars just screamed ‘minor injuries and possible sleepover,’ so I packed accordingly.”
He patted the side of his beat-up messenger bag slung across him, like it was a perfectly reasonable thing to carry on a first date. “So I’m good to stay. We can do movies, fake-study, maybe share one of those romantic burgers, nap aggressively—but…”
He leaned closer now, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret from the spirit realm.
“There’s gotta be smoochage. Mandatory. Like, if you go see Roan Chappell and she doesn’t open with Pink Pony Club? You walk right out. Same deal here. I hang with you, I get at least one kiss. Universe demands it.”
Peter barely had time to react before a shadow loomed.
From the front of the diner, a large, imposing man in a leather jacket stepped forward. “Hey. Kid. Go get Bob.”
Gene, standing by the fryer with a burger hat on his head and a squirt bottle of ketchup mid-air, blinked. “Wait. You mean like… my dad Bob? The grill dad? Ketchup Bob? Beefy Bob?” His voice cracked with the weight of sudden doom, like he was being asked to deliver someone’s last rites. He clutched a spatula like it was a microphone and squinted at the Big Man. “This feels like a trap. Is this a burger-based sting operation?”
“Just get him,” the Big Man growled, low and firm.
Gene screamed, “DAAAAAD! THERE’S A MAN OUT HERE WHO SAYS YOUR NAME LIKE HE KNOWS WHERE WE KEEP THE BODY!”
From behind the grill, Bob’s head popped up, instantly alarmed. “What?! What body?! Gene, what body?!”
Before Bob could even get an answer, Linda hustled over, hands already gesturing, lipstick fierce and hopeful. “Hiya! I’m Bob’s wife—what can I do for ya, hon? You want a refill? You need a burger with, like, extra pickles to calm you down?”
The man didn’t even blink. “Get Bob. Now.”
Linda’s face froze for a beat before she backed up with her trademark sing-song panic. “Okay! Yikes! Honestly, I—I feel like I don’t know the ‘on’ of it!”
Bob jogged up from behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron, face already shiny with stress. “Okay, okay, I’m here! Look, if this is about the payment, I—I just need a little more time, okay? The rent’s due, and we’re short again, and the fryer blew out on Tuesday, and Tina ordered like a very unnecessary amount of matcha powder for some reason, and—”
Linda turned to Bob, shocked. “Bobby! What payment? Since when are we doing payments? What’s happening!? Are we being extorted? Are we in the mob now? Is this like a family thing? Am I a mob wife? Because I need time to emotionally prepare for that!”
Louise popped up from a nearby booth. “I knew this place had a shakedown vibe. Gene, we gotta weaponize the mustard again.”
Gene grabbed the mustard bottle and pointed it like a squirt gun. “You’ll never take my dad alive!”
The Big Man didn’t even flinch. “You’ve got three days, Bob. No more excuses.”
Jonesy watched the entire thing unfold like he’d just been given dessert and dinner at the same time. He leaned closer to Peter, whispering, “This is... weirdly romantic? Like I feel like this date is plot rich. And I’m into it.”
He gave Peter’s hand a little squeeze, his voice softening again. “You, by the way? HTG. Hot to gaze at. Certified. So yes to another date. Yes to study hangouts. And yes to kissing. Preferably before Louise rigs the soda machine to explode.”
Then, leaning in with a smirk and spark in his eyes, he added, “So... wanna get that smooch in before the Belchers accidentally become accomplices to racketeering? I feel like there is some kind of mayhem on the way... and the sad thing of it all is I have to to the little Gene room if you catch my drift”
With that Jonesy got from the booth, as he did he so he did so in a way that brought him close enough to Peter to kiss him on the cheek as he said 'Careful, I think theres some trouble...'
Spider-Man:: Peter grinned.
"I'd love that. I know we just met but I feel something. Like a connection. I don't want to lose that. Or you." replied Peter.
He chuckled at the idea of a med kit.
"It doesn't hurt to be prepared. My aunt's a nurse so we have one at the home too." said Peter.
Peter raised an eyebrow.
"I should probably study for real. But I guess I could just do a little tonight and do more later." mentioned Peter.
The test wasn't tommorrow after all so he still had time.
"I wonder if we should share a shake. I've seen people do that in the movies but maybe that's too silly." replied Peter.
Peter paused at his words and chuckled. He leaned forward about to kiss him when someone arrived. His spider sense going off like crazy.
"This doesn't look good." said Peter.
Peter winced at the screaming. If his spider sense wasn't going off he'd be wondering if this was a prank. Peter paused stepping in front of Jonesy on instinct as if afraid the guy might pull out a gun or start swinging punches. Then Linda and Bob showed up.
"Extortion? What did you borrow money form a loan shark?" asked Peter.
As the guy left Peter relaxed as his spider sense went off. He squeezed Jonesy's hand back. This family seemed odd like it was out of a sitcom. It was surreal but kind of charming in its own way.
"That guy was a creep. I'm glad no one was hurt. Although if that jerk "accidentally" fell on his face a few times... well no one would care." mentioned Peter.
Peter blushed at the compliment.
"So are you." replied Peter.
He paused pulling Jonesy into another kiss before someone or something else interrupted them. Then froze as the other spoke.
"Trouble just left." replied Peter.
He frowned texting Tony to keep an eye out for that guy and the Belcher family. Maybe the Avengers couldn't arrest him but surely they could help keep the family safe. They couldn't collect a debt if the family was dead.
"It's not much but...."
Peter pulled out a 50 and handed it over.
"Can I get like 50 dollars worth of food? Burgers, fries, tator tots. Maybe a bit of variety. I could invite some friends over today and have a party. And you too of course Jonesy. Studying can wait. These guys need help." said Peter.
Jonesy:: Gene stood stiffly at the end of the counter, ketchup bottle limp in one hand, his burger hat askew. He glanced sideways at Tina, who was trembling beside him like a leaf stuck in a strong draft.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “Tina... do you think we should be afraid?”
Tina didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the man who had just stepped out the door — the one no one dared make eye contact with, the one Bob had been acting cagey about for weeks. The Big Man.
Outside, the wind bit cold, but the Big Man didn’t flinch. He flipped open an old-style burner phone and spoke low, almost inaudibly — but not inaudible to everyone.
Peter’s head tilted slightly. He didn’t catch it all, but pieces slipped through like smoke: “tonight… remind them… extended protection… neighborhood example…” The words were sparse, scattered like breadcrumbs, but the implication behind them landed heavy.
Inside, Linda had gone pale behind the counter. She gripped a receipt roll so tightly it tore under her fingers.
“Bobby,” she said, breath shaking, “what’s going on? I feel like, honestly, I don’t even know what I feel like!”
Bob opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said, voice low. “It’s just—we’ve been behind, and these guys, they said they were offering protection. Like everyone else around here. I thought... I thought if I just kept the place going, we’d make enough to pay, and they’d leave us alone. I didn’t think—”
Linda’s eyes went wide, connecting dots that had stayed stubbornly scattered until now.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “That cranky old folks’ shop across the street. The one that burned down last month. They didn’t pay, did they? That’s why they’re gone.”
Gene’s mouth dropped open. “Are you saying burgers are cursed now?”
“No,” Bob groaned. “No one is saying burgers are cursed!”
But Tina whimpered anyway, hugging herself. “Uhhhhhhhhh... this is bad.”
Outside, the Big Man closed his flip phone and began walking toward a dark car parked across the street. Through the sleet-blurred windows, shadows shifted — three shapes inside. Waiting. Watching.
Montana leaned forward in the driver’s seat, twirling something in his gloved hand — a lasso wire that sparked faintly in the winter light. Mouse, massive and grim-faced, cracked his knuckles in anticipation, fogging up the side window. Fancy Dan stretched lazily, flicking a switchblade open and closed with practiced ease.
The Big Man reached the car but didn’t get in. Not yet. Just stood by the rear door, silent and imposing, as if waiting for something. Or someone.
Back inside, Jonesy looked over at Peter with quiet intensity. He stepped close and blocked Peter from handing over the $50 to the Belchers. “Keep that Pete, Maybe you can bribe them with that or something,” he murmured. “Or maybe not. Either way, I’ll cover the food - you go do what you need to do... I have faith in you Pete, if you're half as good a fighter as you are a kisser, they don't stand a chance”
“So... how much would it be to cater a party? Maybe... here. Tonight.”
Jonesy didn’t look away from Peter as he spoke, voice soft, steady. IT was clear from how he spoke, that while he'd not known Peter very long, less than an hour he already possessed an unshakeable faith in Peter.
“You get'em Tiger. I’ll handle the rest.”
Spider-Man:: Peter was sad the kids were scared. This wasn't right. Hopefully Avengers could fix this problem. Overhearing part of the conversation. He was definitely sending the Avengers back here tonight. By himself he likely could get killed or one of the Belchers. Iron Man had more experience and with his money maybe he could help pay off their debt if they couldn't get the goons arrested. He focused back on the family.
"That's how they operate. It sounds like a gang or the mob. You need to get a loan from a bank or something. To pay them back. Better to make payments to a bank. Banks don't send loan sharks." replied Peter.
He took his money back and smiled as Jonesey offered to pay instead.
"You're too good for me already." said Peter.
Peter decided he'd throw a party and invite the Avengers. He was working as an intern at Stark Industries on the weekends so he could invite Tony. And Tony could invite the Avenger too. He pulled out his phone and texted Tony. Asking him and the Avengers to come to the Belcher's home.
"Get who?" asked Peter.
He was more confused but decided to ignore it.
Jonesy:: Bob is pacing behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron like it's a stress reflex. “I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I thought I could keep us under the radar, just pay enough to keep 'em quiet—but now they’re escalating. They want more, and we’ve got less.”
Linda, clutching a ketchup-stained dish towel like a lifeline, stares at him wide-eyed. “I feel like, honestly, I don’t even know what I feel like! Bobby, this isn’t just about burgers anymore!”
“Yeah,” Gene pipes up, eyes still fixed on the front door. "He’s standing outside by that big black menacing looking car" Tina who stood trembling next to Gene, arms stiff at her sides. “So... should we be scared? Like, pee-a-little in our pants scared or just we can still wait a little to pee?”
Tina lets out a shaky, low “Uhhhhhhhhh” and rocks in place, her voice caught in a mix of fear and confusion.
Louise grips her bunny hat, jaw clenched. “Let ‘em try something. I’ve got ketchup packets and a very specific set of spicey skills.”
Out front, the Big Man stands near the curb, speaking in hushed tones into his burner flip-phone. Peter’s enhanced hearing catches fragments: “...remind them... kindness... protection... like the others... tonight.”
As he pockets the phone, the Big Man strolls to his black sedan—parked crookedly out front—where his three backup goons, The Enforcers, wait: Montana, coiling his electrified lasso; Moose, flexing his huge arms and cracking his knuckles; and Fancy Dan, twirling a switchblade like he’s auditioning for a Broadway remake of West Side Story.
Bob looks out the window, dread rising. “They’re not gone yet.”
Jonesy places a hand on Peter’s arm, gently returning the crumpled cash. “Maybe you can bribe 'em with that. I’ll handle the food. Say... how much would it be to cater a party? Here. Tonight.”
Linda gasps. “A party? Now?”
“Maybe it’s not a party party,” Jonesy says, glancing toward the door, “Maybe it’s cover. Or maybe it’s hope.”
Spider-Man:: Peter sighed.
"And I thought today would be normal date. Guess I can't say meeting you is boring." replied Peter.
He frowned and turned to Jonesy.
"Maybe we should call the cops or Avengers. Somebody. To get protection. If all they want is money then we should be able to raise it. My Uncle Ben died in a mugging. He was picking me from the library. I came out too late. I couldn't help him then but I want to do something here. A fundraiser, bank loans. Something." said Peter.
He sighed.
"Fifty dollars isn't going to stop him." mentioned Peter.
He nodded at the party.
"We have a big party. A fundraiser. Get as much money as we can. I'm sure it'd help." replied Peter.
Jonesy:: Jonesy lets out a breath, half a laugh that doesn’t quite land. “You think you’re boring? Peter, I’m a librarian. By choice. I get off on organizing things—neatly, alphabetically, by genre, with color-coded tags. Trust me, I’ve cornered the market on boring.”
He glances at the Belchers—Bob still pacing, wiping his hands on his already spotted apron like he’s scrubbing away guilt. Linda’s clutching a mustard-stained towel to her chest like a security blanket, eyes glassy and darting around.
“Maybe we could stay with Aunt Gail?” she suggests out of nowhere, voice pitching high with hope that’s clearly panic in disguise. “I mean, she has that one-floor walk down that doesn't flood that much - only when it rains. And her apartment isn’t that small. Mr. Business doesn’t take up that much room—he just acts like he does!”
Gene perks up, trying to be helpful. “The litterbox only smells when you’re there.”
Tina doesn’t say anything—just rocks in place like a metronome of dread, her hands stiff at her sides. Louise is posted up on a stool, arms crossed, trying to act tough but her bunny ears are trembling.
Jonesy watches them a moment, then turns back to Peter, voice quieter now. “I mean... I could give them the money. I've got some savings, I could cover whatever today’s ‘kindness fee’ is. I think it's at least a K though, those fees tend to run kind of height from what I've read. But what happens next month? Or the one after that? You pay people like this once, they don’t say thank you—they show up next—Probably with bigger fees.”
Jonesy sighs, jaw tightening.
“These aren’t the kind of people who stop. And the Belchers... I fear they might be the kind of people who never catch a break Peter.”
Outside, the thugs aren’t even pretending to be subtle anymore. Fancy Dan leans on the hood of their black ominous sedan, flipping a burner phone open and shut in one had, twirling a switch blade in the other, just casually waiting like he’s waiting for a phone call. His goons aren’t far—Montana’s coiling and uncoiling his lasso, slow and deliberate. Moose is bouncing slightly on his heels, looking ready to punch something—or someone—just to feel it. Then he makes a phone call and the Bob Phone rings in a way that scares the Belchers.
They’re lingering. Enjoying this. Drinking in the control like a warm cup of smug.
Fearfully, Linda picks up the phone, a muffled voice talks to her. She writes everything down nervously then reads it back noting they'll have the order right out.
Jonesy stares at them, then says softly, “Unless you’re the U.N.—or, like, above the U.N.—I don’t think the Avengers' people even have a number for the rest of us. Peter, we’re not even background noise in the kind of cities they save.”
He looks at the Belchers again—at the cracks in their courage, the way fear clings to them in ketchup-colored fingerprints—and adds, “And looking at them? I don’t need tarot cards or tea leaves to know they’ve got bad credit stamped all over their auras.”
Then, more bitterly: “If I had powers—real ones—I’d follow those guys. Wait till they were in an alley or somewhere, away from families and front windows. Then I’d flip their car, rip out the engine, maybe explain with my fists why extortion is a terrible business model. But I’m not that guy. We’re not that guy... I get it. And this neighborhood? We don’t get local heroes. Daredevil’s what, fifteen blocks away? Whole different area code. Whole different kind of problem.”
A heavy silence drapes over the moment, like even the air doesn’t know what to say.
Then Jonesy, voice low and tight, says, “Look... I’ve got some savings. I can cover this. But what happens next time? You and me—we’re not exactly the super-popular fundraising types. I really wish I was a superhero though. That I could actually do something. You don’t happen to actually have Stark on speed dial, do you?”
He forces a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Because around here? The cops are either bought, scared, or gone from what I've read in the Bugle. And white knights?” He glances back out the window toward the lingering menace. “They’re far and few between, Peter. The only knights we got are standing outside looking kind of tarnished.”
Linda sticks the order up stating "Hurry up Bob.. they... they want Lisa to run the order out to them–Oh my poor lil' baby. She's about to grow up a lil' too fast I'm afraid."
NOTES:: Villains working for the big man are:
Fancy Dan, Moose + montanna
Spider-Man:: Peter chuckled.
"Wow. You're a librarian. That's so cool. Wow I'm dating a hot librarian." replied Peter.
Peter sighed.
"You're right. They'll never be satisfied. But I don't get why killing people gets them their money either. That doesn't make a very successful business." said Peter.
Peter nodded.
"Then we need to find a way to help them." mentioned Peter.
He paused seeing more thugs show up and groans.
"Great. More trouble." replied Peter.
"I'm an intern at Stark Industries but he probably doesn't know I work there. I did send him a call but I don't know if he'd get it. Maybe we should just go out the back door. Better to lose things than people." said Peter.
Peter is frustrated. Even if he slipped away to fight he might not be able to stop all of them. and he couldn't stay here and protect the Belcher family forever. Maybe quitting the Champions wasn't the best idea. But he'd made his choice and hoped Tony or other heroes could show up soon.
"You're right. The cops may not want to go up against the mob. Or worse be outmanned and end up dead. We might be on our own." mentioned Peter.
Peter was at a loss what to do. If this kept up they'd all end up dead or at least badly hurt. All it'd take is one bullet to hit anyone in here including the family and other customers who didn't make the deal. But going out by himself could get them all killed too if he screwed this up.
Jonesy:: Jonesy shifts a little, scratching the side of his nose a little like he’s buying time, then murmurs with a sheepish grin, “Okay—technically I’m not a real librarian. I’m like… a librarian’s assistant. A civilian class. Level one spellcaster. But I am very good at organizing rare tomes and telling people to use coasters near the cursed editions.”
He glances back toward the Belchers, just in time to see Teddy stumble into the shop, mid-monologue already.
TEDDY: “Hey, Bob! You’ll never guess who’s parked out front again! I mean, I know I’m not supposed to mention it—Linda, plug your ears—wait, no, unplug, this is important! I think they’re here for that fancy stove. You remember the stove, right? THE SECRET ONE?! Oh no—Linda—forget I said stove! It’s—it’s a metaphor! A secret stove metaphor!”
LINDA: “Teddy, I’ve known since Tuesday. You dropped off a parts invoice labeled ‘Stove Bribe.’”
TEDDY: “Oh thank God, I thought I blew it again. What’s the special today, Bob? Is it ‘Extortion Eggs’ or more of a ‘Get Whacked and Cheese’ vibe?”
Jonesy snorts but it dies fast as he watches Linda usher Louise behind the counter like she’s shielding her from a dust storm that hasn’t blown in yet.
Then, back to Peter, he says—quieter now:
“You might think this is weird, but… I trust my feelings. Not always—but sometimes they hit just right. Like, the first time I passed this shop? Something tugged. It was a weird little whisper in the back of my mind that said, ‘You’re about to meet someone really good—someone important.’”
Jonesy smiles crookedly. “And then I saw you. You were just sipping your soda like it was the end of a really bad day, and I thought, 'Oh no, he’s about to hook up with that guy from the bathroom stall drama chat board.' So, I panicked. I may have pretended to be you and totally tanked it.”
He shrugs helplessly, like he’s not even a little sorry.
“I told them you were celibate and into emotional connection and, like, interpretive dance? They bolted. Like, zippy quick. Then I ordered tea, checked the leaves, and stayed. Because you looked... kind. Not just cute—though, for the record, you're way hotter than you looked in the leaves.”
His voice softens.
“I’m not saying I can lift a bus or hurl thunder or web up an entire crime ring in ten seconds flat. But I am saying... I can feel people. And you, Peter? You’ve got that shine. That something. It’s not just the guilt or the big heart or the sharp jawline—I mean, all those things help—but there’s something more.”
He steps a little closer.
“I know you can do something. I don’t know how. I don’t even need to know. But I believe it. And not in some passive, put-up-a-prayer way—I mean do something. Fix this. Help them.”
He gestures gently at the Belchers.
“They’re... weak. In some ways. Life’s kind of backed over them a few times, you know? But they get up again. Together. That kind of softness? It’s strength too, just not the loud kind. Not like what’s waiting outside with a pocket full of switchblades and bad metaphors.”
Linda looks up, wiping her eyes with the corner of a burger wrapper.
LINDA: “No offense taken, hun. Life’s kind of bent us over, but we make it work. Day by day. We got buns, we got buns of spiritual steel.”
BOB: “We’re good people, Peter. Just tired ones. You don’t owe us anything. But if you can help...”
(He trails off, that sentence carrying the soft, crushing weight of a man trying not to hope too much.)
Jonesy looks back to Peter.
Jonesy reaches up, gentle fingers just brushing Peter’s sleeve—comfort or maybe a quiet charge of trust.
“You’re stronger than you know. And I’m not going anywhere, not if you don't want me too, If you want me to stepback cause you don't want me to get hurt, I'll trust you. I'll stay here with them if you want. But whatever happens next, I’ve got your back Peter and if I knew you better I'd kiss you so hard right now.”
“... if there's a reason you can't help, I heard that Spider-Man reads his comments on the Tik-Toks that feature him... We could leave a comment for Spider-Man. I heard he reads his YouTubes to, Someones got an ego right? I saw a story once where he caught a Downtown Express bus. Those things weigh like—what—ten tons? He caught it. Caught it. I mean like, there's a reason he has an ego and it's not just becaue of how he fills out that onesie”
Then, softly, “He’s my hero. He always shows up for people like the Belchers. And you… I don’t know why, but I get that same sense from you. Maybe you’re just brave. Maybe you’re more. I think you're more. Doesn’t matter. You want me to toss bones or flip tarot? I will. But I already know. And like I said, I'm here for you. I believe in you.... god this got a bit melodramactic huh...”
"If you want t go, we can.. let me get the Bill, kay?
With that Jonesy went over to Linda and pull multiple Benjamines from his wallet and handed them over say he hopes that that helped.
NOTES:: Villains working for the big man are:
Fancy Dan, Moose + montanna
Spider-Man:: Peter grinned.
"Assistant librarian. Still cool. I know who to go to for help next time I'm at the library." replied Peter.
Peter blinked overhearing the conversation.
"This isn't going to end well. Maybe we should evacuate. Cops or heroes aren't going to likely get here in time." said Peter.
Peter chuckled.
"So you saying you sent my real date away and pretended to be him? Very sneaky." mentioned Peter.
Peter listened to him intrigued.
"Wow. So you got powers?" asked Peter.
He blushed at the compliments.
"I'm not that special." replied Peter.
Peter sighed knowing it'd be hard to slip away and change. He didn't even know if there was a back door. And he thought the fewer people who knew who he really was the better. So far it was just Tony Stark. That conversation had been awkward but he felt he made the right choice. Then Bob asked for help really piling on the guilt.
"Maybe I can lure them away. Buy some time." said Peter.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Wow. You think very highly of Spiderman. Isn't he a new hero though? I didn't realize he was that popular yet." mentioned Peter.
He raised an eyebrow at how much money he gave.
"Wow. You're pretty rich to do that." replied Peter.
He paused and decided to slip out the front door. He picked up a couple of trash can lids from the kitchen and ran out. He tossed them at the men like a frisbee knocking the guns out of their hand.
"Catch me if you can." said Peter.
He laughed and took off gaining the men's attention and keeping Jonesy and the Belchers safe. He just needed to give them the slip long enough to change. He hoped Tony got his message if he needed backup. But he'd decided to risk it. If he had done something with that mugger that night then his uncle Ben would still be alive. He wasn't going to let anyone else down.
Jonesy:: The young psychic let out a soft, stunned breath as Peter darted off with trash can lids, Captain America-ing his way into a distraction play worthy of an action movie.
For a second, Jonesy just stared at the door.
Then—he blinked, like rebooting. “Okay. First of all, I didn’t send your real date away—I just did some light… emotional landscaping. Subtle pruning of expectations. Encouraged him not to stay. I’m smart that way.”
He turned and grinned dazedly at the Belchers, flushed with a kind of giddy awe and nerves.
“I knew I was right about him,” Jonesy breathed, then looked back at the now-closed door Peter had vanished through, like it might still echo with cape-flavored destiny. He held his breath. Then turned to the Belchers again, beaming.
“Okay, okay, everyone—does this place have a back exit? Rooftop access? I need to get you out before someone decides to hold y’all hostage in exchange for fries.”
Linda sniffled, still holding a phone like it was about to detonate. “Gail’s apartment might still be open! She gave me a key last Christmas—it was in a snow globe.”
Bob looked skeptical. “That was two apartments ago, Linda.”
“Details! Gail only moves when Mr. Business fights with the building’s pet psychic! It’s fine!”
Gene piped up, holding up a nearly full squeeze bottle of ketchup like it was sacred. “Do we bring condiments? If we die, I’d like to die seasoned.”
Tina just muttered, “Running is a social construct,” and moved toward the emergency exit with the posture of a defeated office worker.
Louise, meanwhile, was already kicking open the back door, eyes darting around like she was preparing for guerrilla war. “There’s an alley! It smells like burnt cabbage and despair, but it’s clear.”
Jonesy pointed like a director on a mission. “Perfect. Everyone, grab what matters—small pets, emotional support aprons, whatever—and follow Louise. I’ll be right behind you.”
He paused mid-stride and looked at Linda, pulling a surprisingly fat stack of bills—Benjamins, no less—from his wallet.
“I hope this helps cover the ‘special order’ for the thugs,” he said gently, pressing them into her hands.
Linda blinked. “Are you sure?”
Jonesy gave her a wink. “I have an oddly large tip jar. Also, I’m not poor—I’m technically wealthy. That’s how my mom taught me to phrase it. ‘Say it nicely, recommend insurance products according to their fiscal vibe, and don’t ever say rich—say affluent with a smile.’” He turned and whispered, “Yeah. We’re rich.”
Teddy leaned in behind them, confused. “So wait, are you, like, a good warlock or something?”
Jonesy waved vaguely. “Level one spellcaster. Librarian’s assistant class. I do carry a 1970 mood ring that occasionally pings very accurately, and I have a weird thing about time and vibes, so... yeah.”
Linda, still breathless, asked, “Do you think Spider-Man will be okay?”
Jonesy went quiet for a moment. Then: “I think he’s gonna make those guys deeply regret having bones.”
He looked toward the front window, where shadows still moved in the distance. Then, lower, softer, “Also—have you seen his butt? The way it looks in that suit? He’s so hot. So so soooo hot. And the arms? I mean—serious gun-age. Just like Peter.”
Bob coughed.
“Sorry. Stress makes me thirsty.”
Linda whispered, “It’s okay, hon. Same.”
“Anyway,” Jonesy said, straightening. “We gotta go now. Out the back. I’ve got Peter’s back—if he needs me to stay, I’ll stay. But if not? I’m gonna do what I can to help the rest of you get somewhere safe. Because white knights might be rare, but when you spot one?” He smiled faintly, eyes sparkling with unspoken belief. “You move your pieces fast and give them room to do what they do best.”
Louise, from the alley, yelled, “THIS SMELLS LIKE OLD CHEESE BUT NO MURDER YET. LET’S MOVE, PEOPLE!”
As the last clatter of the trash can lids fades into the distance and the Belchers disappear out the back, Jonesy doesn’t follow. Instead, he exhales hard, rubs his palms on his jeans, and moves fast.
He double-locks the back door with a practiced flick, then crosses the shop, bolting the front entrance. Deadbolt. Chain. Even drags a chair under the handle for good measure.
Then he pulls out his phone, thumbs moving quickly. Jonesy sends a text to someone who owes him; Jonesy then sends a text to Linda.
TEXT SENT TO LINDA:
Alleyway Entrance where it intersects with 142nd. Ten minutes. Bulletproof limo. Stay hidden until Dee arrives - she may have big guns. Trust her. She owes me.
Making myself a cappuccino [dry], money under cup onto of machine.
He sends another—short, just one sentence—to Peter.
TEXT SENT:
Six minutes until they regroup. Please come back. Please be okay.
Jonesy lets the phone drop against his chest, held by the cord around his neck. His fingers hover near the lock, as if expecting Peter to swing the door back open, grinning, a little winded, maybe triumphant.
Instead, silence.
The air inside the diner feels thin. Tense. Like the whole place is holding its breath. Like he is.
“I knew it,” Jonesy whispers to himself. “I knew it from the second I saw you.”
He walks to the front window, careful not to be seen, and peers through the blinds. Just shadows, the hum of threat still lingering outside like a low-grade fever.
Then back to the door. He rests his hand on the frame—fingers brushing the wood like it’s sacred.
“I know who you are, Peter,” he murmurs. “I know. And it’s not just the look or the way you ducked out or how your instincts are faster than the speed of guilt—it's how much you care. That’s the real giveaway. That’s the thing you can’t hide.”
He glances down at the mood ring on his finger. It’s glowing blue—whatever that means. He doesn’t remember what the colors are supposed to mean. He just knows he keeps checking it.
“Your secret’s safe. I won’t say a word. Not ever. Not even to myself. That thing you’re carrying—it’s precious. I feel that. Not just because you’ve got this big shiny soul hiding under all that awkward charm, but because of... Benny. I don’t know who he was, but I know what he meant. Because whatever broke you, Peter—it broke clean. Left something sharper behind. Something good.”
His throat tightens, but he smiles, small and earnest.
“That need to help people? That’s your real power. Even more than the webs or the flips or the ability to make lycra look indecent.”
He swallows, rubbing his knuckles together like a warding charm.
“You’re trying to be the person Benny would be proud of. And that matters. I don’t know if that makes you a hero. But I know it makes you worth believing in.”
He takes a breath, then another, crossing his fingers tightly. Closes his eyes. Murmurs a little half-prayer under his breath to any entity listening—Saint Jude, the fates, a librarian goddess somewhere in the ether.
“Please let me be right about him. Please let him be safe. Please let him save the day. But mostly please let him come back.”
His fingers stay crossed. And he waits.
NOTES:: Villains working for the big man are:
Fancy Dan, Moose + montanna
:: Foswell adjusted the angle of the rearview mirror with two fingers, long and pale like the legs of a dead spider. A twitch of movement caught his attention—a blur in the crowd. His eyes narrowed.
There. That kid. Dark hoodie, wiry build, slipping through sidewalk traffic with just enough bounce in his stride to register as a problem.
Foswell’s mouth flattened into a thin, unimpressed line. He reached into his coat, pulled out a slim silver case, and clicked it open—not for cigarettes, but for a small recording device. He pressed his thumb to the button and spoke with all the warmth of a man reciting a grocery list.
“Incident at 8th and Morrison. Interruption. Possible interference. Civilian, male, late teens. Noted evasion behavior. Possible informant. Possible liability. Pending escalation.”
He shut it and flicked his gaze to the men in the car.
“Montana. Ox.” His voice was slick and low, like oil on pavement. “See that kid?”
Montana leaned over. “The one with the twitchy shoulders?”
“Yeah. Him. He’s a runner. Probably got a big heart and a dumb streak. You know the type. Might be thinkin’ of playing hero. Maybe even callin’ the cops.”
Ox cracked his knuckles without looking up. “Want we should make him forget how to dial?”
Foswell’s smile was small and sharp. “Don’t kill him. But I do want him to feel it. A broken arm, sure—but a leg’s better. He looks like a hoofer. Might be the kind of pain that sticks with him, you know? Long-term learning.”
He leaned back in the leather seat, brushing invisible lint off his vest.
“Go. Fancy Dan and I’ll stay with the car. I’ll call it in and check if the King’s left us any breadcrumbs.”
The door opened and slammed behind them in quick succession. Montana tipped his hat low, and Ox just lumbered off like a wrecking ball in slacks.
Alleyway Chase – Narrative Cut:
Peter was already three steps ahead—literally and figuratively.
The second he made eye contact with the hulking shape of Ox moving into the street, his pulse spiked. He veered left down a narrow alley between a thrift shop and a boarded-up video store, his feet pounding hard on cracked concrete.
Behind him, Ox roared something unintelligible, and Montana cursed through his teeth.
“You go left!” Montana barked. “I’ll cut him off!”
But Peter had the kind of rhythm you couldn’t teach in a gym or beat out of a guy in an alley. Every pivot was precise, every jump measured—vaulting low fences, skimming over trash cans like a parkour prodigy who had everything riding on the next ten seconds.
Montana tried to flank him through a side path—but Peter heard the boots, adjusted, and slipped between two dumpsters so fast Montana had to double-take just to believe it.
Ox didn’t slow down, even when he crashed through an empty produce rack someone had tossed out behind a bodega. But Peter was faster. Leaner. Smarter. He had the kind of speed that came from desperation and instinct sharpened to a razor’s edge.
They were chasing a teenager.
They didn’t know they were chasing Spider-Man.
Not yet.
NOTES:: Villains working for the big man are:
Fancy Dan, Moose + montanna
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