𝙄𝙣 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙔𝙤𝙧𝙠...

A Coffee And A Smile Makes The World Go Round

Narrative: Michelle Jones accidentally crosses paths with a web-slinging hero during the later hours of her job.

A Coffee Shop AU (of sorts)

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The entire world paused with every second rotating by in the blink of an eye, waiting for the minute hand to finally line up atop the hour hand on a race of time. When the clock had finally hit the tenth hour mark, a phone alarm began to ring aloud simultaneously. A curly haired brunette then walked over, picking up the phone from its spot on the counter-coincidentally placed right underneath said clock-and sighed in relief to know her shift was finally over. No longer would she have to spend hours of her time bussing tables and serving orders all at once. For the end of the day had finally arrived.

Although the downside was she'd have to restart all over again the next day, but she figured that would be a problem to deal with when it came. For now, she wanted to enjoy the few quiet hours she had to herself before heading home.

She wiped down the tables again, making sure everything was in place. Turned off all the lights from the kitchen and even the neon sign in the front that displayed "Jones Bakery and Cafe" in a neat cursive font.

The cafe had been in her family for generations and generations, still staying in that small little corner of Queens, New York. But the place was actually such a delight since being turned into a part time bakery by her mom and renovated by her dad. Designed to look straight out of a fairytale. It was like a home away from home. Especially since the upper floor doubled as a loft just in case.

Just as she was about to make her way towards the shop doors to flip over the open sign to its "closed" counterpart, it's as if realization struck her in the form of a lightbulb. She had forgotten the last task she needed to do before closing up. The most gruesome, most dangerous, and quite unfortunately the smelliest job of them all: taking out the trash.

Sure it seemed a bit of an exaggeration to describe it as such, but this was New York; it was close to the middle of the night; and she was all alone. Anything could happen in a mere few seconds once she stepped out that back door. She cleared the trash bins in the front before heading to grab the last bag of trash in the kitchen. As she stopped in front of the bin, she noticed something stuck to it. A notecard labeling the item as "la basura." Michelle was slightly amused at her own handiwork, remembering she had assigned labels on a lot of items to prepare herself for the wrath of her professor, Señora Abdula, and her merciless Spanish quiz for the next day.

She kept herself busy with this thought to avoid the growing and pointless paranoia she had. Neither did she notice the shadow that quickly swung by. Carrying the bags out the door, Michelle hurled them into the dumpster as quickly as she could, not wanting to stay in the alleyway any longer. But before she could scurry back into the comforts of the shop walls, she heard some shuffling and banging beside the other dumpster.

Another rattle struck a nerve in her, and for a second Michelle contemplated her next move. She could do the smart thing and walk away from the danger, but something in her mind was telling her to go forward. So, like a bloody idiot in a stereotypical PG-rated horror movie, Michelle found her feet turning into the corner of the bin-one hand gripping tightly at her keys just in case-until she found something most unexpected.

There on the ground, up against the wall of her building, was none other than Queens' own colourful local crime-stopper, Spider-Man. Battered and bruised and barely conscious from the way he was heaving heavily and his lenses hardly opened. Michelle was at a loss for words at the sight, unsure what to do. And that's when the hero let out one silent plea for help.