Frostbite

Public Enemy #1

Stephen sipped his mug of coffee as the four books laid open in front of him idly turned their pages. He'd been skimming through his library for that one tidbit he'd been hunting for over the last few days, but it wasn't that big of a deal. The multiverse wasn't going to collapse in the next forty-eight hours—probably—and if it was he at least needed to finish the rest of the coffee in the pot.

Cloak nudged him with its collar.

"Yes, I know it's boring, but until we find what we need we're stuck here. You'll live."

He took another sip, nearly spilling when it nudged his cheek harder.

"Whining about it's going to get you nowhere."

poke

"Hey!"

Wong ambled into the library with a tick in his brow and a pointer finger to his phone, slowly scrolling and muttering to himself as his eyes darted left to right to left again.

"Which celebrity got a DUI this time?" Stephen asked as he brushed Cloak's collar away.

The tick in Wong's brow dove deeper. "Spider-Man."

"Spider-Man got a DUI?"

He supposed that shouldn't be much of a surprise with how the kid apparently went to parties. Though he couldn't recall Spider-Man having a vehicle associated with him—it was more his speed catching them in mid-air or pulling them up before they crashed off bridges. Or maybe it really was illegal to drink and swing and the police set up a sticky trap to catch him in the act.

But then Wong stepped up beside him and turned his phone around to show his far too bright screen.

... Ah.

So something objectively worse than a DUI.

TRAPPED IN A TREACHEROUS WEB:

SEVEN IN CRITICAL CONDITION AFTER BEING APPREHENDED BY SPIDER-MAN

::

The bar was in full swing and when the heat wave hit within the next month, they'll have mercs packed wall to wall like they were a college bar even on days that weren't the weekend. He'd have to try and bully his boss into investing in some fans they could mount high up on the walls. Nothing with exposed blades, though. That was just asking for people to get their fingertips hacked off. But it wasn't so bad for now; it was packed, not stuffed, and he tuned up the AC last week so it wouldn't break for another few weeks at least.

There were some new faces out in the crowd tonight too. Still mostly East Coasters, Weasel told him, but a couple even he hadn't seen in the last year or two. Peter would definitely make sure to introduce himself to anyone who didn't already know and recommend the tater tots they probably didn't get to have the last time they were in because hey, there was no such thing as being too kind, May used to like reminding him.

Kind, kind, kind.

He tried so goddamn hard to be kind all the time regardless of the face he wore, but he guessed diving headfirst into trouble didn't get him much of it in return.

Granny Sal tutted as she walked past him with a bowl full of seasoned wings. "Fix your face, sweet pea."

"What's wrong with my face?"

"It's crinkled up and thinkin' too hard. You see this?" She jerked a thumb at the space between her eyebrows. "You keep that smooth 'less you want it to stick like that forever."

"People say that all the time, Ms. Granny. It's advice that, like, no one listens to."

"It ain't advice, it's a threat." She popped his shoulder with her knobbly knuckles and he made a show of doubling over, clutching at his arm like he'd been stabbed repeatedly with a kitchen knife and he was bleeding out all over the— "Boy, if you don't stop actin' a fool..."