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"DOMINIC, PETER PARKER HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING."
I looked up from my screen, my eyes tearing away from the small blue icon meant to lead me to the report Friday had constructed. A grin crept up my face against my will. "Tell the guys downstairs to let him through."
"Already done," said Friday, something like offense shining through her voice. "I informed them as soon as you placed the call. He has just entered the elevator."
"Thanks, Fri," I said appreciatively, grinning at the screen. My hands crept up to my hair without knowledge (that seemed to be happening a lot in regards to Peter Parker) as my fingers ran through it. My bleached-blond curls stuck out every which way, resisting against my desperate attempts to flatten them, just as the lab doors slipped open.
My back was to the door but I could still hear the hesitant footsteps. My hand dropped to my lap as I attempted to look busy, pulling up random files I didn't need. "Hey," Peter said hesitantly from behind me, his footsteps stopping.
I closed all files except the one I needed and spun around (thank god for chairs with wheels), a bright smile plastered on my face. "Hey!" I exclaimed. He looked, with the risk of me sounding redundant, adorable, with his Midtown sweatshirt, and messy hair (okay, maybe I missed the messy hair just a tiny bit).
Peter smiled back, his eyes glued to my hair. "I– I wasn't sure if you needed Spider-Man or not, but I brought the suit just in case."
I grinned. "Nope, no Spidey, just you," I said as calmly as I could. I tried not to scream at what the last few words insinuated and let my fingers run through my hair again. Peter reddened as he tore his eyes away from my hair and met my eyes. I couldn't help but giggle slightly. "You can ask about the hair," I said with a smile. "It's okay."
"No, uh— it's just different," he said with a nervous smile. "I didn't really notice it before, uh, it looks nice."
I grinned again. "You can put your stuff down," I said as casually I could. So, it looked nice. Good to know. "Grab a seat," I gestured and opened up the file.
The tips of his ears stained pink and he gingerly sat on a seat, rolling it closer to the screen. My eyes scanned over his face for a second before I smiled softly. "A few hours ago," I began as I moved my hand gesturing to the display, "My phone was hacked." Peter's forehead crinkled as his fingers drifted up the bridge of his nose, almost as if pushing up glasses he didn't have. His hands fell away, landing in his lap.
"They didn't take any information, as far as Friday can tell, they just left me with this message," I swiped the screen and Peter drifted closer. I flipped through the slides, the ugly font repeating the same words I had been running over in my head since the message had reached me. DOMINIC STARK. JOIN US.
