Chapter Text
(1) Peter 1
Peter’s getting his ass kicked by the GED reading practice questions—it’s not like they’re hard, he just thinks himself into a tizzy and then bam! wrong answer—when he hears a knock at his apartment door. But it’s not just any knock; it’s a knock that sets off his senses. His Peter Tingle—
Peter freezes, brain slamming a wall in front of that train of thought. He doesn’t call it that. Not anymore. Not after May…
He shakes his head. Does it again with more force, like the thought will rattle around before tucking itself back into the shadows of his brain. It doesn’t work but hey, always worth a shot, right?
The knocking at the door starts again and Peter frowns, brow furrowing. Visitors other than his landlord are rare. He doesn’t get visitors anymore because to have visitors means having friends and yeah, he’s kinda lacking those at the moment. Peter squints at his calendar. Yeah, rent’s not due for another two weeks. Which means it probably isn’t the landlord, thank God.
Peter approaches the door cautiously, the hair-raising feeling at the back of his neck increasing tenfold as his hand grips the doorknob. He cracks the door open, tensing himself in preparation for—
“Peter?”
“Hi Peter,” the other Peter in his doorway echoes, all wide eyes and a crooked little smile. Peter 2.
“Wait. What? Huh?” Peter squeezes his eyes shut, batting at the other man’s chest. “This isn’t real. Uh-uh, you’re probably not real because I really need to sleep more ‘cause I’m obviously hallucinating. Unless—” His eyes shoot open. “Unless you got pulled through another portal? The spell didn’t work? Another tear in the multiverse—”
“Nothing like that,” Peter says gently. He looks older in civilian clothes. It’s comforting, somehow. “I just wanted to stop by and say hi. See how you’re holding up after everything.”
“You…you still remember me?” Peter says, internally cursing the little tremble in his voice. But he can’t help it; a sliver of hope after months of endless solitude is just too good not to grasp onto. Like a desperate, drowning man clinging to the last threads of life. “You remembered even after the spell?”
“Less that I remembered and more that I just…knew?” The other Peter taps his temple; hints of grey are starting to wind through the strands there. “You’re Spiderman. Ergo, you’re also Peter Parker.”
“Wow. God, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all month,” Peter says fervently, ushering the older man in. He watches as the other Peter examines his apartment, a wistful little smile emerging as he pokes around curiously.
“Some things don’t change,” he murmurs before spotting Peter’s studying materials. “Ah, the GED?”
“Yeah,” Peter says with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gotta study hard, ace the test and all that so I can move on to where I need to be.”
“Aiming for?”
“MIT,” Peter blurts out, too eager to play it off as casual. But the other man takes it easily in stride.
“MIT,” he muses, picking up a worn throw pillow and shoving it behind his lower back as he sits down on the threadbare couch. And it’s such a familiar little thing, something Peter saw Happy and even May do sometimes after a long day on her feet. It somehow…doesn’t hurt to think about them like this. About her. All Peter feels is warmth in place of that customary sadness, a friendly little glow lighting him up inside.
This is real. He’s not truly alone.
“You’ve got a plan then, don’t you? I recognize that look,” the other man notes almost slyly. And Peter can’t help but shoot back, “Looking in the mirror a lot these days?”
The older Peter laughs, shaking his head. And it’s weird to watch it happen, see a stranger that’s also another version of himself laugh because damn, Peter gets it. He recognizes something in that laughter, like looking in a warped mirror and seeing both yourself and something else in the reflection. But there’s a kinship there too. A bond that’s tying them together, unbreakable because they’re both the same person. Like the same color but in different shades.
Wow. That’s a mindfuck.
“Sure, sure,” the other Peter chuckles, laughter tapering off as he shakes Peter from his thoughts. “So, tell me all about it. Your plan.”
Peter 2 is a good listener, all things considered. He winces in the right places in the story—because of course Peter ends up telling him about everything before the spell in painful, stuttering detail—he nods attentively and places a comforting hand on his shoulder when he talks about MJ and Ned and May.
Jeez. This is really the first time he’s gotten to unload all of this. Peter would feel worse about it if he didn’t recognize the deep understanding in the other Peter’s eyes, the familiar shadow of similar burdens being carried in his life, his universe.
It’s still a little embarrassing though. He hasn’t blabbered on like this in years.
“I think you just might get that plan to work,” the older man concludes by the time everything’s spilled out of Peter’s mouth and it’s nearly 1AM and his cheeks are embarrassingly wet.
“Y-you really think so?”
“You’re Peter Parker,” he says with a little shrug. “You’ll make it happen. That’s what we do.”
That’s what we do. What we do.
The relief Peter feels must be palpable because the other man grins, waving his hand. “Sadly, I definitely won’t be helping you with any of this studying. Once is enough for me and I think you’re plenty smart enough to get into MIT on your own.”
“I could use your—”
“Sure you could,” the older Peter interrupts with a shrug and a twinkle in his eye. “But something tells me you’ll pave your own way with no trouble.”
Peter grins, gaze flicking to the clock again. As much as he’d like to grill Peter on his past and get to know his take on life, it’s getting late and he’d planned to get a patrol in before bed, but he really doesn’t want to kick Peter out now—
The thought clicks right as his mouth drops open. Oh. Oh, duh, he’s sitting with Spiderman on his couch and he’s worried about kicking the man out so that he can go out and patrol? Jesus, his common sense is wearing down thin. He needs to get out more.
Peter glances back, arching a brow. “You wearing your suit?”
The other Peter grins, pulling down the collar of his flannel. “What do you think?” Red shot through with black lines peaks out and Peter laughs, giddy as he snatches his suit off the back of his chair.
“Well then, fancy taking a swing?”