Aunt May took Peter for Thai Saturday afternoon, before he started his patrol. They tried a new place, Ayada Thai, that night, and Peter liked the place instantly. It was small and cozy, with sauce bottles mounted decoratively on avocado-green walls. Ebony cabinets hid the entrance to the kitchen, and windows looked out onto the streets of Queens. When May and he sat down on the stools at the long table running against said windows, Peter hoped their food measured up.
“So, school?” May inquired, smiling lightly at him.
“Um, good, yeah, good,” Peter replied. “I’m working with MJ on a social studies project. She’s obviously very invested, and ready to really amp up what we can do. Dunno what we’re gonna do, but it’ll be cool. Maybe she’ll let me build things.”
“Any excuse to get into the workshop,” May said. “Ned?”
“He was sick yesterday, when we talked about it.” ‘Sick.’ Peter had his doubts. “We’ll probably team up on Monday. Oh!” Peter snapped his fingers. “Star Wars. It’s coming up.”
“Already?”
“Yup. Ned wants to do it with us…” he trailed off, noticing May’s attention was drifting to a TV above his head. “May?”
Her eyes flashed with concern, still watching the screen. Nervous, Peter turned, just in time to read the headline running along the bottom of the screen.
Ferry sinks just outside Manhattan, 8 confirmed dead, 17 injured, dozens more missing.
Peter felt his stomach churn. “Damn…”
A voice cut scathingly from behind him. “Where were the damn superheroes there, huh?”
Peter spun to see a waiter, theirs, staring angrily at the scene on TV. “What?” he asked, taken aback by the man’s tone. May put a hand on his shoulder.
The man set the drinks he was holding down, crossing his arms. “My best friend’s daughter was on that boat. Spider-Man and Iron Man show up to save a ferry cut in half by alien technology, but I guess can’t be bothered by natural causes.”
Peter gaped guppily, not sure whether to bristle or be deeply ashamed. Because the man was right. He could have done something, they could have done something.
May’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and he could hear her whispering, barely. You can’t save everyone. Not your fault, not anyone’s fault. You can’t save everyone.
Peter’s instincts were to disagree, of course, but he was distracted by another comment the waiter made. “That’s why we need those damn Accords.”
Peter did bristle, this time. “What? What do the Accords have to do with this?” He clenched a fist on the table behind his back, pushing away his chagrin until later.
The man snapped his attention to Peter, and the boy realized he hadn’t truly been noticed until then. “Heroes are hypocritical, that’s all I’m saying.” The darkness in his gaze made it clear it was definitely not all he was saying. “Picking and choosing who lives and who dies. The governments, the world, should get to choose what battles are fought, not some pompous rich guy who can fly a suit.”
It was the explicit jab at Stark that made Peter angry. Images of the man flashed in the teen’s mind: Stark fighting his own team for the sake of his morals and the same damn laws this idiot was twistedly promoting, Stark snapping the fingers of his wifi-enabled suit to activate a heater in Peter’s own suit, Stark wanting the boy to be “better than” him, Stark putting himself between a nuke and hundreds of thousands of innocent lives.
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The Waterspout
ФанфикFour months after the Homecoming dance, Peter Parker's life is largely unchanged. Ned knows his secret now, and so does Aunt May, which means there are a few more rules and a few more consequences, but there's been radio silence from Tony Stark. Pet...
