Something Sinister

Hunter Pt. II

"My whole life has been a lie."

"I mean ... not really?"

"Everything I knew is wrong."

"Not ... everything?"

"My whole life ... everything is different now."

"... How?"

Peter huffed, turning to you before flopping down on his bed and groaning. "My dad ... worked with Doc Ock."

It had been like this for a whole week. It was all Peter talked about - in school, at home, on patrol. You'd hardly had any alone time for the two of you to have fun because Peter had been obsessing.

Over the weekend at the Compound, you'd woken up to find Peter not in bed, only to find him in the lab researching and taking notes on God knows what.

"I'll be back to bed in a minute," he mumbled, not even looking up from what he was doing as his glasses slipped slightly down his nose. "God that sounded so fucking domestic."

"I'm the one who has insomnia," you stated, "Shouldn't I be the one obsessing over something early in the morning?"

"Y/N, this is important," Peter whined, finally looking up at you, "I don't expect you to understand because -"

"What?"

You crossed your arms as you felt the need to shut yourself off from Peter, putting up a barrier to salvage the feeling you were starting to feel creeping into your chest.

"You know I love you," Peter prefaced, "But this is really important to me. It's all I've been thinking about and I don't want you to have to be bothered with it -"

"Pete," you stepped forward, "I want to be bothered by it. This is our thing -"

"No! It's not! This is my life! My parents could have died because of this! My dad staked his life on his work! How could you possibly know how it feels to lose someone and not know all the answers! We have nothing to go by and there is absolutely no way of knowing if I'm even on the right track! This is my thing and I have to figure it out or else more people are going to get hurt and the Hunter is going to fucking murder me!"

Peter's hand slammed down on the bench, making a bunch of the tools clang against the tabletop. You placed your hands on your hips, cocking them slightly as you stared at Peter with a stern face.

"Are you done?"

Peter stared at you with wide eyes, his hands still flat against the table before he let his head fall, shoulders slouching as he sat back down, shoving his face into his hands.

"Yeah," he grumbled.

"For your overdramatic record, I do know what it feels like to lose a parent and not know all the answers. You were there. And also, the Hunter is notgoing to murder you."

"I'm on his list, Y/N," Peter whimpered, looking up at you with red-rimmed eyes. "Me. Spider-Man. He's on the his list and he's coming for me. Bucky couldn't beat him. How am I supposed to?"

You rolled your eyes, "Would you get over yourself? Bucky was on his own and no one cared if he lived or died. You have a whole team behind you and a secret identity to protect you."

"But -"

"No shut up," you snapped, "This has to stop. You obsess and it gets into your emotions and it messes with your mood during the day. Spider-Man can handle this, but Peter Parker has a whole life that can't just go on hold."