Peter?

Lonely

Author's note: this is my first fanfic, please don't be too judgmental. Also this chapter describes a few slightly gruesome images, and depicts loss. Spoiler alert for No Way Home and every marvel movie before that. MJ is a Demi girl in this au, so be aware of pronoun shifts. Now onto the story.

Peter Benjamin Parker was exactly 18 the day he got the message that led to an entire predicament involving cops, conspiracies, geniuses, gender therapists, and a man named Clinton Francis Barton.

He woke up at five that morning from a disturbing dream. It started with him enjoying a nice, hot cup of chi in a plain white area, it was just him, his sofa, and his cup. Suddenly he looked up and something clicked. The room was now the café MJ works at. He was sitting at his favourite spot, a table near the back right corner of the shop.

She was talking to him. "Peter, what happened, where are you?"

"MJ, I'm right here. You're looking at me." Then she got up and left. His chair automatically trailed behind her. It then tipped backwards, and he fell through the floor into a giant web of steel strings. His flesh was burning with a grotesquely sweet scent, his tea having gained acidic properties. He tried to get up, but the cord was sticky.

Pete woke in a cold sweat. His alarm was going off, beep, beep, be-beep. It may be the most infuriating noise ever, but it works. He was up. Peter got undressed and climbed into the shower the scalding hot water poured down his scared and bruised back and ribs. Down to his legs and eventually the bottom of the shower. The burn felt good, it felt good to hurt. When he got into fights while on patrol he used the adrenaline to power through his days. He used the pain to stay motivated. Peter used Spider-Man to pay his bills. Literally. He got paid by the daily bugle because he could always get the best pictures of Spider-Man.

He stepped out of the shower and threw on his clothes. He looked in the mirror and turned to his side. He smiled, he looked good, handsome even.

He whispered MJ's words of motivation to himself."You've got this, go get 'em tiger!"

He grabbed his favourite graphic t-shirt with the lettering that says "I survived my trip to New York", and walked out of his apartment. He went to a local coffee shop and got one iced coffee and a bagel. He drank the coffee and ate the bagel on his way to the library. He found some level of solace in the endless novels. Peter loved them all, the often adventurous fantasies, the usually calmer romances, the sci-fis, and anything in between. Except for the vampire romances, that was more MJ's thing. There was nobody there so he went over to the kids section and searched a while before deciding on grabbing two books. The third in the Harry Potter series, and the fourth of the Heroes Of Olympus series. He used the self checkout counter to take the books, and left. He had to get to work.

Peter worked for a man named James Jonah Jameson, JJ for short. He thought Spider-Man was nothing but a filthy, rotten, menace. Of course he was still in the front page, with the biggest picture. JJ knew what the people wanted, to see their heroes, the men and women that inspire them. Millions in queens, and over the world had been saved either directly or indirectly by Spider-Man, so having him on the front page of the daily bugle every morning sold thousands of copies. JJ was thrilled that morning when Peter brought his best work yet, a picture of a detected looking Spider-Man sitting in the giant donut on top of Randy's Donuts. He had a cup of tea in one hand, and a newspaper in the other hiding all his face below the eyes. Over his shoulder he heard JJ and his employees discussing the Title of the new copy. The most agreed upon one was "Spider-Man suicidal or homisidal"

Pete left almost immediately after the conversation, leaving himself only enough time to pick up his biweekly check before riding the elevator down forty-four floors of offices to ground level. From there he continued on back to his apartment. He put away his check in his little piggy bank box before leaving to get lunch.

He walked into a nearly deserted McDonald's, just him and a little girl. She was probably 14 or 15, but living with people like Steve, and previously Aunt May, he never knew. She had golden hair, eyes, and nail polish. Her skinny body was matched by a skin tight T-shirt and black jeans. The girl held a light, freckled hand towards him.

"I'm Jenny McOcelean," she said, "you must be Peter Parker. We work in the same photography processing chains. I absolutely adore your work." And then he went to sit down.

Peter finished his French fries and left, returning to his apartment with the little boost of hope the child gave him. He went to his couch and sat down. He leaped up and grabbed the ceiling, when he heard a startling crunch. He got down and picked up the paper. It was a letter that said:

Dear Mr Parker

This is the S.T.A.R.K (Sarcastic, Territorial, And Reliable Keeper) AI. I have been asked to invite you to the avengers tower, there you will be met by one of our current residents and given full access to me. Please wear your costume.

Signed The Avengers.

Peter could hardly believe it. He thought Dr Strange had wiped all memory of him. In fact he'd recently gotten over his girlfriend from before Peters 2 and 3 were dumped into this universe. If the avengers could remember him maybe he had another chance with MJ, and Ned.

A few minutes later he was in his new super suit, which was conveniently covered his baggy sweater and blue jeans. "I've got this," Peter said to himself, "they know me." His voice cracked on the word 'know'. He put on his mask and headed out over the city, not risking running into someone familiar. Peter couldn't take that much stress.