shots, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳.

[008] both of us.

You had just landed a job as an intern for The Daily Bugle. You were happy. It was difficult as a woman to land a job during the Great Depression, let alone someone like you who had no connections whatsoever. You heard you were referred by one Peter Parker. Apparently, you would be working under his name while you interned at the newspaper company. You've heard things about him. How he was quiet and mysterious. How he was slightly condescending but really good at his job. And how he would always disappear at random times. It wasn't uncommon, however. There was always something going on behind closed doors in everyone's lives. People were just trying to get by, you understood that. You stepped into the building on your first day of work, greeting the secretary and receiving your badge before reporting to J. Jonah Jameson's office. Another man was already in the office, you assumed to be Peter.

"Ah, [Y/N]." Jameson's voice was suspicious as he eyed you up and down. "The new intern, eh? We'll see how long ya last." He let out a small chuckle of amusement. "Parker, this dame'll be workin' under you. Your job's simple. Get that Noir guy exposed." He scoffs. "He ain't a good guy, and we need the scoop." You stare at him blankly but notice Peter rolling his eyes at him. He pauses before a stern expression arises on his face and motions for you to leave. "Well? Get on it already." You nod without a word and walk out, Peter right on your tail. You turn to him and he gives you a skeptical look. He takes a small step back and puts his hands on his hips, waiting for you to speak.

"So, who's this Noir guy?" You pause before noticing his unamused face. "Just needa know what I'm gettin' myself into, that's all."

He gives you a blank stare and speaks, his voice monotone and slightly condescending. He clearly thinks he's above you. "Spider-Man. A good guy." He shrugs his left shoulder. "An' we gotta prove he ain't. Talk about idiocy. Right, doll?" You nod slightly, not wanting to disagree with him, but still skeptical about his words.

"Where d'we start?" He doesn't respond, at least not verbally. Instead, he brushes past you, bumping into your shoulder. He doesn't look back, and you roll your eyes and reluctantly follow him. He leads you into a quaint office with two desks on each side.

"Your desk. My desk." You nod.

"So what now? I-"

"Quiet down, doll. Just take a few pictures and I'll do the rest." His voice is stern but calm. You scoff at his words. He sure was a piece of work.

"Ain't we s'pposed to work together?" He pauses for a bit before picking up his words once more.

"Nah." He walks over to his desk and sits in his office chair. "Who d'you think needs the money more? These are hard times, I'm tellin' ya. It's every man for themselves." You roll your eyes at him, folding your arms together. How unbelievable was this guy?

"You're unbelievable."

"Thanks, doll." He gives you a small smirk before grabbing a stack of papers and pulling out a pen. He seems busy, so you don't bother him. Instead, you sit at your desk directly across from him and stare at what he's doing, your elbows resting on the table and hands underneath your chin. He was kind of cute, the way he stared down at the papers in front of him and occasionally rolled his eyes at the writings. He notices you staring.

"What gives?"

"I dunno what I'm s'pposed to be doin'. You've yet to tell me."

He sighs and mumbles to himself. "For such a pretty face, you sure got a big mouth."

"What was that?"

"Nothin'. Just grab a stack of papers and edit the writing."

"What 'bout the Noir guy?"