The Truths We Never Told || Peter Parker [2]

thirty: breaking news - i suck!

"Who is Spider-Man?' 'Who is Spider-Woman?' They're criminals, that's who! They're public menaces, vigilantes! Myself and many other will agree that we don't feel safe letting our kids outside anymore..."

"You work with this guy?" I ask Peter, who purses his lips, eyes glued to the TV in the top corner of Delmar's sandwich shop. I cross my arms over my chest, sighing at the man's red face.

"Unfortunately, yes. And he just took over the company." Peter mutters.

"What?!" I exclaim, glancing at Peter with wild eyes. "Didn't he just get hired?"

"Yes. And now he owns The Daily Bugle." Peter grumbles, tilting his head back for a moment. He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"His name is J. Jonah Jameson. Trust me, I'm not happy about it either."

"Number sixty-seven!"

"He's making us look horrible." I say, eyebrows raised at the television. Well, technically I already did that myself. "I mean, seriously."

"I know."

"Is there any way you could, like, persuade him to drop this?" I ask. It's already bad enough as is.

Peter sighs. "I can't. I'm just an intern."

I mutter, "Good god. He's just so angry." As anyone should be, after witnessing my rampage last night.

"Number sixty-seven!"

My stomach growls as I make eye contact with the employee from across the counter. "Hey, do you have the receipt?"

"No, why?"

"What was our number?"

"Our number?"

"Our order number, Peter - "

"Sixty-seven!"

"Oh - shit, that's us. C'mon." I mutter, pulling Peter forward with me before thanking the woman who had been shouting at our oblivious faces for the past minute or so. Peter's gaze is torn back over to the television suddenly as I take the plastic bag from the girl behind the counter. I blink at her, confused for a moment as she stares with wide, brown eyes at the television behind me. Fumbling with the bag, I ask her dumbly, "Is everything okay, ma'am?"

She blinks and apologizes quickly before motioning to the television in the corner, the one that had seemed to grab everyone's attention in Delmar's. When I turn and glance at the screen, I'm suddenly staring at myself standing over the Chameleon. Only, I'm dressed I'm sweatpants and a trench coat with a mask, and the Chameleon wears the face of a stranger. Fuck. My heart absolutely sinks as Peter whirls around, fixing me with distressed eyes.