Just Kids | Peter Parker

9 | Number Five With A Side Of Comfort

Y/N

_

I was lost.

I didn't know my way around this area, and here I was, running blind.

I didn't know how to get back to Stark Tower, Peter's Apartment, and Peter still had my Metra card. As I turned a corner, my eyes wildly scanned around.

"[y/n]!"

My hair raised when I heard the familiar voice. From across the street, a brown-haired boy was looking around wildly, call out my name. Peter didn't see me, but he was looking for me.

I didn't want him to find me. Not after what I just did.

Turning around, I pulled my hood over my head, and quickly ran into the closest shop I could find. I knew Peter would find his way over here, so I had to hide. Scampering across the store aisle, I crouched behind a Hershey's candy bar stand.

"Hey, kid!" A man said, surprising me, "whats going on here?"

I stared at him blankly, unsure what to say. It was definitely strange to see some random person hiding behind a stand in your shop, but I was hiding for a reason. The man had a greying beard, and was wiping his hands off with a towel.

"I'm...hiding from someone," I said, slowly standing up, "jsut for a while."

He stared at me for a second, as if he was making a judge of my character. After a few seconds, he nodded his head and set down his towel.

"You can stay here as long as you need," the man offered, "You want a sandwich?"

Now that he said it, I was a bit hungry.

"Sure," I agreed, "thank you."

My eyes looked up towards the menu hanging above him, and I squinted my eyes. It had been a long time since I've ordered something from a store, and the experience was freaking me out a little.

I just decided to go with whatever I saw first.

"Um," I stammered, "a number five?"

"You want that with pickles?"

"Sure."

"Crisp or smooshed."

"Which one is better?"

"smooshed."

I pursed my lips together, "that then."

Turning around, he began to shuffle around with ingredients behind him. As he started to make my sandwich, he casually leaned his head to the side to talk to me.

"Did you just get out of school?" He asked, glancing at the clock.

"Yeah. I did."

"Where do you go?"

"Midtown," I said, rocking back and forth.

I had technically only been at the school for one day, and I was pretty sure I was never going back. I could have killed someone. Again.

"That's a good school," the man said, "a lot of my customers come to good ol' Delmar's."

"Delmar's?" I questioned, furrowing a brow, "this is Delmars?"

"Yeah. Why kid, you've heard of it?"

I nodded, staring at the ground, "Peter told me you have the best sandwiches in queens."

"Parker? You know Peter Parker?"

Did everyone know Peter Parker? I nodded my head again, watching as he dropped my sandwich into a bag. I reached for my wallet as he slid it across the counter, but he stopped me.

"On the house," he said, "any friend of Peter's is a friend of mine."

Friend.

I liked that word.

"Thank you," I admitted, taking the sandwich, "thank you a lot, Mr. Delmar."

Turning on my heels, I gripped the bag in my hand and strode into the street. Speaking to Mr. Delmar, even just for a little moment, made me feel settled. Calmer. More in control of my life.

As I crossed the street, I felt someone grab my arm, and pull me back. I was about to swing in self-defense, but the hazel-brown eyes stopped me.

It was Peter.

"[y/n]," he said, panting, "I've been looking all over for you."

I nodded, staring at the ground, "yeah, sorry."

"Why'd you run?"

"Because there was no point in staying."

There was a moment of silence. Neither of us really knew what to say, so the boy just said the first thing on his mind. It wasn't good.

"Flash ratted you out to Principle Morita," he said, "admin is looking for you."

"I'm used to it."

"Used to what?"

"People looking for me," I sighed, "I lived life in hiding for a long time."

"It'll be fine," Peter said, "Mr. Stark will take care of it."

I could tell he wanted to comfort me, but there wasn't much he could do. I wouldn't let him touch me. He was a toucher, but I didn't like that. I appreciated that he was trying his best, though.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked abruptly.

"Do what?"

"Try to kill flash?"

I wasn't trying to kill him. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. Yet whenever someone saw me, they saw killing as the only explanation.

"I don't know," I shrugged, "I really don't know."

Truthfully, we both knew. Even though I wasn't going to talk about it, we both knew the answer. I was Hydra. Always Hydra.

The great assassin.

The stupid Winter Soldier.

The person who was brainwashed into killing over a hundred people, and probably still could.

Desperate to change the topic again, Peter scanned the area, looking for something to cheer me up. He saw the sandwich back clutched in his hand, the Delmar's logo printed in bright letters.

"Number five, huh?" he grinned.

I took out the sandwich, ripping off half to give to him. It was the only thing I could do to thank him for his mediocre comfort. Anyone else probably would have appreciated his attempts fully, but I just couldn't. Words didn't mean anything when it came to my actions.

"With pickles," I said, taking a bite and looking away, "and smooshed down real flat."