[REWRITING] SHOOT TO THRILL ✷ May Parker

02. soul kitchen

02. soul kitchen
(🕸🧷🎒🤟🏼🕷)
may & peter's apartment
int. night

❝SO, WHERE'S PETER?❞ GAVIN SLIPPED off his boots, settling into the worn kitchen chair. May was pouring two generous glasses of wine from behind the counter, and Gavin couldn't help but just look. Damn, she was special. Overarching Assignment or not, May Parker was a complete catch. If you'd asked him a few months ago what he looked for in a woman, it'd be someone rough around the edges and who called him his father's son—someone who picked fights for the hell of it.

But May was—truly—all good things. That either made Nick Fury the world's greatest matchmaker or the world's biggest asshole. Gavin suspected the latter. It wasn't fair, really. He'd never wanted something real in love before.

And, with May, he couldn't have it.

     May sat across from him, sliding over one of the glasses. "At his friend's place." She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back a little. "It's good, y'know? 'Makes him happy."

     Gavin nodded, slowly rotating the bottom of his glass. "Oh, yeah—Neil, right?"

     "Ned," May corrected him, chuckling a little.

"Alright—yeah, hey, I'm trying." Gavin took a small, tentative sip of wine, eyeing May over the rim of the glass.

"I know you are," she reassured him, reaching across the table to squeeze Gavin's hand. "I see it, really. You're not exactly...in a position to have to, but you do anyway. Pete's a special kid, to say the least, and you—well, never mind."

     "What?" Gavin wondered.

"He needs someone like you, like the way you've been there for me—I don't know how to put it. He's been through hell, and..." Her voice trailed off.

     "The Blip, you mean?"

     She nodded. "It's that, I think, but...there's more. He's lost so much. I think he's mad at me a bit, under the surface. Maybe it's 'cause..." She stared moodily into her glass. "Well, I gained you. I think he resents that—spends more nights at Ned's."

     Gavin just laughed; dry and hollow. "You might be overthinking it. It's just his way of telling you he doesn't like me."

     "He likes you," May insisted. "Don't say that, he does. He just needs time. Like I said, he's lost a lot—too much for someone his age."

     "Y'know, I was gone too."

     "Of course I do. You know what I meant." May just sighed a little, resting her glass on her thigh. "But, there's just...stuff I'm not sure how to talk about—or if I can. It's just been me and him for so long. I'm not gonna lie and tell you that you walked into something normal. You didn't."

Gavin wasn't from a world of sincerity, which made May that much more refreshing. The way she longed to pull him close, to spill her secrets—it created a warm feeling in his chest. May was safety; she was goodness. He found it a bit ironic, though. She thought she was horrible to keep things from him, he could see it in her eyes. Willing to almost cry for him—over things she didn't know he already knew.

Meanwhile, he was the liar. And one day, he'd be gone—gone before she even realized it.

"Hey," Gavin said soothingly, sitting forward a little. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to 'till you're ready. I know a thing or two about being guarded. I don't have to see all your dirty laundry from the get-go. And, if I do, I'll love it. Every piece of it—you."

     May's smile was so sad and grateful, like a mourner at a funeral. "Y'know, so many guys pretend to be like you. Seriously—you're like the last person in the world that I can say anything to and won't get twisted up about it. You're always...one hundred percent who you say you are."

     Gavin stewed in her words for a moment, guilt sitting in his stomach like a rock. He was almost relieved when he felt the phone in his pocket buzz—the left pocket.

     He sighed, pulling it out. "Work—lovely."

     "At this time of night?"

     "I'm guessing it's the department chair. I've been trying to get this medieval medicine course added for months." He got up, kissing the top of May's head apologetically. "I'll be like, ten minutes."

     Gavin squeezed his way into the bathroom from the narrow hallway, shutting and locking the door behind him. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the toilet, turning on his phone and dropping it in his lap. "Hey—you figure out the deal with our mystery cargo?"

     "...Yes and no." Maria told him. "You were right—the missiles were older, and probably some of the last weapons Stark ever produced. I'm sure they found their way to the black market through the usual channels. The other tech's a whole 'nother animal. It's Stark made—some kind of virtual reality stuff. He's demonstrated a similar model before: Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing. In the wrong hands, it could be twisted into who knows what. I'm glad we caught it when we did. I'm sure there's more like it out there, but that poses a bigger question."

     "Yeah—what evil tech-ass freak was willing to go low and pay big bucks to have it shipped here?" Gavin offered.

     "Mmhm. You're already working undercover, so I won't risk anything by pulling you into this. Fury would like you to consult. I know you're familiar with all this—not the tech part so much. We're trying to trace it back through the group who was handling it. It's not a lot to go on, I know."

     "No, yeah, I—look, May's waitin' on me, but Fury knows I come when he calls. Just keep me in the loop on this. I've got a bad feeling about it."

     "May?" Maria sounded stern. "You're around her place an awful lot."

     "She is my girlfriend, y'know."

     "Fake girlfriend," Maria corrected him. "Next you're gonna tell me you wanna start really teaching history."

     "Well, she doesn't know that. How am I supposed to date—'fake' date—someone I never see?"

     "You're 'required' to be there when the kid is home—and not even always, at that. Our covert surveillance at the Leed's says otherwise. Do I need to be concerned?"

     "What?" Gavin demanded. "About what?"

     Maria just exhaled a shaky laugh. "Carver—c'mon. Just don't tell me you're getting too close to this. When Fury says you walk away, you walk away. You can't afford broken hearts and hurt feelings in this line of work, believe me."

     "I know. This is me you're talking to. I don't do feelings, Hill. I'm not wired that way."

     "I hope so."