Peter's sixteen year old with prosthetic legs, PTSD, and a severe drinking problem. To make things better, his girlfriend's pregnant... yeah he's going to be Spiderdad and there's nothing he can do about it
(A/N: here is Tati Gabrielle as Black Cat/Felicia Hardy. I think she'd be pretty great. Also their may be some medical inaccuracies in this chapter because I don't pay attention in health class or biology or any class and this isn't exactly easy stuff to find information on. You'll see what I mean when you get there.)
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Peter awoke slowly with a throbbing headache and a loud ringing in his ears. He attempted to sit up to observe his surroundings, only to force himself to lay back down with a groan. With his eyes closed, he recognized that his mechanical legs were missing as well as his Spiderman suit, leaving him in a pair of sweatpants that clearly weren't his.
"Good morning, Peter," Black Cat's voice smashed into his ears violently, making him flinch.
"Too loud," he mumbled.
He felt her slide a glass of water into his hands and he managed to sit up just enough to gratefully gulp the whole thing down. His headache hardly subsided, but he forced himself to open his eyes to gaze upon the shabby bedroom he lay in. Then his eyes traveled to Black Cat who wore sweatpants and a tank top, plus no mask. Her facial features were slick and round, she looked like a supermodel. She wasn't sporting her silver hair, so Peter assumed she must use a wig for her midnight robberies.
"Um..." his mind went blank as his mind attempted to process the sight.
A smirk flickered onto her lips as she took the glass from his hand, "welcome to my shit hole apartment," she kept her voice quiet.
Peter shrugged, not taking his eyes off her, "it's not so bad."
She rolled her eyes then motioned for him to scoot over, "do you remember anything from last night?"
Peter wrapped an arm around her as she cuddled up against his side, "I remember eating dinner with you, going to a bar then... that's it."
"Would you like to know what happened?"
"That would be nice."
"We went to the bar, you drank a lot, I drank a little, I started to get worried about you drinking yourself to death, so I brought you home. Then, you told me your name is Peter I told you my name is Felicia, we took off our masks, then made out for a little bit. And now you're hungover and look like Nicholas Cage."
"Ouch," he mocked an offended tone.
"Well, it's true," she shrugged.
Peter chuckled, "so, um. You said your name is Felicia?"
"Mhm."
"That's a really pretty name."
She smiled up at him, "thank you."
He simpered softly, observing that her eyes were now deep brown instead of blue, so she must have been using colored contacts earlier, "no problem."
