Chapter Text
The sound of light drizzle hit in the back of his mind, brain automatically tuning out the noise, drip drops echoed in his ears, the streets of New York were unforgiving with its climate for most of the time; quick footsteps followed to Oscorp, mud coming suit with his shoes.
His mind is filled with white noise, the memories from last night assaulting his mind with everything it had and of course without forgetting Michael, pity soon filled his humor. The guy seemed to know what he was talking about and the amount of newspaper he backed up his claims served as proof, he knew for a fact that no one would take that amount of time to make up those things.
Iit shouldn"t be weird taking in account his own job as a vigilante, it was really interesting— it wasn"t.
He was really weirded out, he didn’t understand entirely why someone would take an interest so heavy in a case filled with this much tragedy, his train of thought paused for a moment.
For a moment he stayed in place, if what he said was true and he really was an Emily wouldn"t it make sense that this guy was so invested in the case? he could understand the protectiveness that the man probably felt… he would have to look at it more closely later.
Ultimately it wouldn’t make any sense if he keeps beating himself down because of it.
It wasn’t much longer when the a edifice came into view, the logo read ‘OSCORP’ on the side, he got into the building immediately, the shimmering droplets of water that stayed in his head quickly slided down his hair, wetting the back of his cardigan and making multiple blotches of water, darkening the original color, and soon he paraded towards the elevator.
metal floors banging against his shoes, he greets the few employees that are on the lower floors, quick “hi’s” and “hello’s” following behind him.
Once he stepped inside of the elevator cab a soft sigh escaped from his lips, tired eyes skimming over the numbers on the panel before him, an automatic motion made him reach for the laboratory level.
The thing made a sound before closing its doors, shaking slightly when it left the floor; the trip felt like a blink — there were at least a good 20 floors before the lab but it didn’t feel like such — idly he thinks that maybe if he quit his little stunt as a vigilante he could get two or three nights of good sleep before the guilt drags him back to the job.
Harry smiles at him, chocolate eyes meeting his own, a wide smile is given to him "Parker! You’re here earlier" a hand soon falled softly on his shoulder giving a light squeeze before letting go again, Peter let out a scoff, an amused grin escaping from him regardless of the annoyed look he had.
"Wow, i didn’t think we were at last name base, Osborn" he answers amused, making his way inside of the lab finally letting the cabin leave.
That earns him an eye roll, a light-hearted laugh being heard from beside him, the hand from his friend retreats from his body before raising them to make a surrender sign.
"I"m just saying you’re awfully early for someone who goes to sleep at four in the morning." He says half jokingly, quickly passing him to take his things on his own desk, Osborn following suit to do the same plopping in his chair before start working.
"Oh please, is not that weird" Harry looks at him with a brow raised, hands stopping from typing on the keyboard. "When was the last time you came at-" he glanced at the clock on the screen before turning to deep brown hair "seven in the morning on a sunday?"
It"s Peter"s turn to raise his hands in surrender, a traitorous smile sneaking over his lips.
The worry in his friends eyes made him melt embarrassingly quickly "I"m going to be real with you, i couldn’t sleep" the brunet confessed, spinning in the chair, a tired grin being reciprocated with a worried look.
"Is this another Spider-man gimmick I must know about?" Harry says, fully turning to look at Peter, the lulling sound of typing ceasing all at once.
When the chair stops spinning and Peter had no other option than to look at his friend, making the circumstances around it very real "yeah, you could say that" he chimes slowly, his upper body resting on the table, arms making a barrier from the light and eyes closing slightly while one of his hands moved the keyboard as to not damage it.
"You seem tired man, you can like, go and sleep on the couch of the lab while I work, no shame buddy" Harry called from his side, Peter is too tired to deny or argue, incoherent complaining coming from the vigilante soon filled the room like water in a flood.
His head soon rising from where he was, eyes meeting with the sight of Harry working.
“Actually, i think i need to tell someone about last night or i’m going to go batshit” he muttered sitting up straight, he stretched his muscles making it pop a few times before turning to see Harry, tired brown eyes boring through him.
“Oh? it must’ve been that bad for you to want to tell me” Harry doesn’t look away from the computer screen, working while hearing peter whine from the other side of the room, tiredness clear in his tone.
Soon the other laughed humorlessly, everytime they did this he felt like he was putting his friend at risk giving him this kind of information, not that he didn’t trust him but one day he’s going to slip out something that is going to put Harry’s life at risk.
“Remember the case I told you about?” he asks, standing from his own desk for a moment feeling a little stupid once he realizes that there’s nothing that needs him standing up que sit again, soon he starts to take out the things from his backpack and place the things for his work, turning on the computer, the other male only responds with a soft hum in something similar to acknowledge.
“That depends Peter, i’m going to need more information than that” he says, raising his eyes to meet the vigilantes glance, a brow quirking up to wait not so patiently for the other.
“The case with the… missing children in the Fazbear pizzeria” Osborn stops typing for a second before resuming while nodding eyes escaping his own and Peter wondered for a second if he had done something wrong, the atmosphere changing significantly around them, the air becoming colder chilling deep in their bones before turning to normal again.
“Yeah, you told me about that, what has that to do with this?” he says in a worried tone “Well, do you know Henry Emily?”
Harry perks up at the mention of a familiar name inside of the world of robotics “one of the co-owners right?” Harry turns to Peter, eyes glinting for a moment with something that resembled so much to a predator.
Peter seemed nervous playing with the hem of his shirt in one hand, he moved his eyes away, devouring lines of code in a try to keep his mind as cool as possible, bile raising to his throat at the memory of the paper cutouts. The sight of a kid"s body lying lifeless on the pavement behind a place where he was supposed to be safe.
A bright green could be barely made out in the light of day but it was clearly there, a robot a few feets away from him. Unlike Michael this kid seemed to resemble more his father, bright ginger hair hastily tied to a low ponytail clearly the work of a kid, a green cardigan far too big for a kid (probably Mr. Emily’s) tainted with blood.
“I met his kid, like, one of the Emily’s children."" The name sits heavy on his tongue like a foreign word that you’re too insecure to pronounce, fully turning away from the computer “oh?” he gets back, waiting for Peter to elaborate.
“I… well neither of us made the best first impression on the other to be fair” He sounded unsure, Michael didn’t seem so bad but it got him on his nerves somehow a weird feeling nagging his mind (the spider sense? God he hopes not), Harry raises a brow skeptical eyes roaming burning his back.
“I don’t like how that sounds,” he sighs tiredly, a hand covering his face while stopping to work altogether, completely focusing on his friend ” please tell me you didn’t beat him up” A guilty of smile covers his lip, luckily he’s still giving his back to his friend so he didn’t judged him just yet.
One would think that given the nature of his work he had gotten better at hiding what he was feeling but this whole situation frowned upon this thought, he really needed to keep in check his body language.
“Hear me out it wasn"t that I beat him up but rather…” Peter exhales slightly, ashamed of the events that they met each other wearily he turns around to be met with his friend with crossed arms and a tired look “Okay well in my favor I did not beat him up” Harry raises a brow a slightly worried about what that sentence entailed, nodding once like he was trying to organize his words in a way that wouldn’t hurt the other.
"Okay, but if that was it you wouldn"t be telling me this" He says questioning the spider, he didn’t even turn around once more to keep working but rather stayed in place, an expression as calm as undisturbed water took a hold on his face considering the other’s relate before making an assumption.
"Well, after that i kinda took him back to his apartment" Harry stared again now with a flirty smirk appearing in his mouth "not like that dumbass, anyway" the spider huffed, brows pinching together.
"um, to let him go I kinda asked why he was there— " Harry interrupts quickly. “there?” "In the Freddy"s pizzeria, hum, I kinda over heard a police alert from the place, I don’t want to talk about it okay? The thing is that he made a whole investigation about the case."
"You should… hum, talk with him about it" Harry goes back to painting, worrying bubbling on the back of his mind, this guy seemed dangerous just by what Peter had told him.
“How do you say he’s called?” he asks again taking a glance back to the brunette, Peter didn’t seem to hear and if he did he didn’t respond to his question, instead moving on with the conversation.
"... I guess I should, but how exactly do I approach him?" He asks, Harry frowns, his mind wondering something for some seconds before just shrugging "you talked to him as Spider-man, do it again."
Peter scoffs at that "Even if I approached him as spiderman, where do you think i"ll find him?" He said no obvious bite on his tone, Harry made a sound of acknowledgement staying silent for a few seconds, he swore that if this was a cartoon a light bulb would appear at the side of his head.
"You left him in his apartment, right?” Peter nods at that, now is his turn to raise a brow “Go to that place again, it exist a higher percentage of probability that you"ll find him in there"
Peter stares at him, then stares at his backpack then back at Harry, a plan turning in his mind.
"Do you mind if i-" he gets cut, rude, but he’ll let it slide just this once. Harry sighed tiredly, his face resting on his hands that quickly drowned a few complaints "Just go Peter." he muttered just above a whisper.
"Thank you Harry, I owe you one!" Leaves with the backpack and his suit.
"Well well well, look what the shore took to my home" Henry chuckles, entering the house with an empty plastic bag, his glasses slightly fogged and labored breaths escaped from his mouth.
"Hi Mike, i came to clean before Charlotte arrives" he says motioning the living room, barely noticeable from where he was standing.
"I"m sure we have plenty of time, approximately" Michael looks at the clock for a few seconds trying to read those overly complicated needle pointers before completely giving up "six hours at least, tell me why you’re actually here, old man."
"I wanted to spend time with you" the ginger"s response before entering the apartment "plus, between you wanting to keep something and me insisting to get rid of it we"ll end up using all those six hours." Mike huffed offended, he wasn’t a hoarder as Henry suggested, he just likes to keep stuff that might be important to track down… William.
He didn"t believe it for a second but nonetheless he let his… dad? Inside of the place moving slightly to the side, the ginger follows him close, eyes roaming around the pictures in the place.
In one of the walls different pictures from around the years littered the space, in the middle there is an aged up Charlotte holding her kindergarten graduation proudly, a toothy grin showing a missing tooth. Henry smiled softly at that.
When they get to the main salon Henry looks at the big board quizzically, before turning around and look for Michael"s approval to start moving the board, Michael sighs and nods with badly disguised discomfort, grabbing the bag from his father and starts packing some of the stuff in the floor, folders, papers, and trash going together while the other goes with the massive clump of papers that tried to somehow make sense united with a string.
Then a loud crash is heard in the back of where Henry is putting some of the stuff, Michael laughs hard, keeping himself steady by gripping the couch, he let"s down the trash bag, trying to calm from the fit of laugh, slowly he makes his way towards the back, the picture before him almost sent him in a giggle fit once again.
The board was intact but Henry was buried by multiple layers of paper, clips, folders and other office supplies, there is a box holding one of his legs in place and a defeated look washes over his face.
“Are you good?” He says trying to keep in a snicker, soon he moves over to take out the box from over his family, and with that moving aside some paper and folders that managed to slip in what once was a maintenance closet.
“Michael… why is there so much newspaper in here” the named one sighs, lending a hand so the ginger can get up from the floor.
“let’s keep cleaning” He muttered over his breath, shoving a bunch of cutouts of faces in the box, Henry immediately recognized them but kept his mouth shut, frowning slightly.
“can i-”
“you’re not throwing out any on my newspaper” at that Henry only sends him a look, cleaning his pants from ndust “now leave my shit there and just put the board in place, jesus.” the older rolls his eyes playfully, a knowing smile slipping from him.
After the little incident they keep cleaning without much to say, Michael goes to get a broom to undust as much as he can, Henry washes Michael’s cutlery at the best of his ability, plates, cups and all completely clean before half an hour could even hit the clock, and if at some moment one of the two turns on the radio and if they sing "highway to hell" with a horrible impression of a guitar that"s only for them to know.
They finish with at least three hours left on the clock, exhausted, they crash on the couch, tv making background noise in the living room, the silence is nice it doesn’t feel suffocating rather just comfortable.
“... you fucking stink, go take a shower” Henry just chokes on his own saliva, trying to keep down a laugh.
Ginger hairs seem to stretch before accidentally hitting the younger in the face, a soft yelp coming from his side followed by a string of annoyed curses.
Some complaining seem to be the other response while one of his hands reached up to caress himself.
“Michael Emily?” Henry says, a playful offended tone washed over him, Michael smiles at the way his name is said, yeah, he can get used to this little lie of theirs.
Finally the British laughs and gets up, stretching from his position getting followed by a few satisfying pops immediately a deep ache falls on his bones, he makes a face when the stench of sweat and grime reaches his nose.
“Nevermind, I’M the one taking the shower, fuck” Henry laughs at that and the offer to go fetch his clothes makes him look toward the older funnily. “What for?” he asks, making the other raise his brows.
“Mike, last time you dressed yourself someone asked if you wanted them to take you to a homeless shelter, if you’re going to have the Emily name you’re going to have to develop some kind of style” Michael huffed oddly offended at that, trying to mask the warm that spread in his chest at the mention of him being an Emily the boy made his way towards his room.
“You only dress in flannel shirts, what kind of style do you have?” he points at him, his tone with certain annoyance that is quickly shut down with a smile.
“I, young man, dress like a dad” he goes into mike rooms after asking him permission “which i happen to be” ruffle mikes hair, he responds with a scoff while raising a brow.
“Sure old man” Michael answers with a soft smile on his face “don’t make too much of a mess in my closet okay?” Henry only nods thoughtful skimming through a now open closet.
One of the things that Michael enjoyed about having a shower was getting a boiling hot one. The sensation of burning in his skin more often than not helped him ground himself after a bad dream or a particularly rough day at the pizzeria.
He enjoyed getting time to think and the ambience made the perfect place to do so, although it was a slightly dangerous thing to do alone since the mist from the water deprived him of oxygen the longer he was put in.
Michael enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and feels the steam engulf him. It"s as if he"s stepped into a sauna, with the hot water pounding down on him relentlessly. The temperature is so high that he feels his skin tingling and the air almost suffocating. He tries to take a deep breath, but it feels as if the oxygen has been sucked out of the room, leaving him light-headed and dizzy.
The showerhead above him sends down torrents of water, each drop scalding hot and stinging his skin. He tries to adjust the temperature, but it seems to have a mind of its own, punishing him for some unknown reason. The heat is so intense that Michael can feel his muscles relaxing, as if they"re melting in the searing heat.
He decides that he"s had enough, reaches out for the knob, and turns off the shower. The abrupt silence in the bathroom is a stark contrast to the pounding of the water a few moments ago. He reaches for the towel and wipes the condensation off the mirror-door, taking a deep breath to clear his head.
As he steps out of the shower, he feels a sense of relief wash over him. The cool air in the room is a welcome relief after the suffocating heat of the shower. He feels his senses coming back to him, his vision clearing, and the tingling in his skin subsiding.
As he dries himself off, Michael hears his uncle calling out to him from the kitchen. He"s left Michael"s clothes on the bed, ready for him to change into. Michael feels a sense of gratitude for his uncle"s thoughtfulness, and a sense of nostalgia washes over him, reminding him of his childhood. He takes his time dressing up, savoring the moment, and taking in the warm memories of the past.
Finally, he makes his way to the kitchen, where he sees Ginger making some snacks for Charlotte. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked cookies fills the air, and Michael"s mouth waters. Henry notices him and gives him a warm smile, offering him a cookie, which he gladly accepts.
With everything packed and only an hour to go before they have to pick up Charlie, Michael hears a soft knocking on his window. At first, he thinks it"s the wind, but when he turns around, he sees a man in a cheap-looking Spiderman suit hanging upside down outside of his window. His heart skips a beat, and he feels a wave of fear and confusion wash over him. He meets the man"s gaze, trying to decipher his intentions.
The man seems to be looking directly at him, and Michael can see the desperation in his eyes. The man points to the window lock, urging Michael to open it so that he can enter. Michael feels a chill run down his spine, wondering what he wants and why he"s here.
Henry"s voice grows more insistent, demanding to know what"s taking Michael so long. Michael feels a sense of urgency and frustration building inside him, but he manages to open the window lock just fast enough for a normal human to stand for a few seconds before entering.
Once inside, Michael blinks a few times, his eyes switching back and forth between Michael and the man who"s accompanying his son. The man is tall and wiry, with a weather-beaten face and a tattered leather jacket. Michael can"t help but feel uneasy at the sight of the stranger in the Spiderman suit, wondering what he wants and why he"s here.
As the tension builds, Michael tries to think of a way to ease the situation. He clears his throat and speaks up, "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but I can explain everything." His voice is calm, but he can feel the sweat building on his forehead. This is not how he imagined his day going.
Henry turns to him, his eyes softening. "Okay, son. Explain."
Michael takes a deep breath and begins to tell the story of how he met the guy. He explains how he had stumbled upon the man in the Spiderman suit while out on a walk, how he had helped him to escape the animatronics back at the pizzeria. As Michael speaks, the Spiderman fidgets nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the attention being placed on him. Henry listens intently, his face a mask of emotion. When Michael finishes, there is a moment of silence.
Finally, Henry speaks, his voice measured but firm. "I understand that you were trying to help, Michael, but you need to be careful. You can"t just trust anyone you meet on the street." He chastities softly before turning to the stranger, an assessing look on his eyes.
Michael nods, his heart heavy with shame. He knows that his father is right, but he can"t help but feel grateful for Spiderman"s help. He looks over at the man in the suit, who meets his gaze for a moment before looking away.
Henry clears his throat. "Now, about dinner. We can"t leave him here, so we"ll have to take him with us. I"ll call the restaurant and let them know we"ll be bringing an extra guest."