Red Line

Part 8- Lie to Me

"Y/n, y/n, y/n." Peter chirps excitedly as he strolls up next to me.
My grip loosens from my backpack straps, "what's up?"
"Do you want company on your walk home?"
"I'm not going straight home."
"Can I tag along?" He presses.
I raise an eyebrow at him, "Pushy today, aren't we?"
"I know you think it's endearing."
"When I said you should be more confident this is not what I meant." I kid.
"I just want to talk to you about something." He explains.
Is he finally going to tell me he's Spider-Man?

I take a deep breath and smile, "Do you like the deli around the corner? I'm really in the mood for a sandwich. Plus it's basically on my way home."
"I love their sandwiches." Peter agrees.

~~~

The bells on the door jingle as I open it and the shop owner's eyes dart over to see who had walked in.
"Y/n, you're back! You haven't been in in months." He says happily.
I smile, "Dad has actually been cooking lately, can you believe it?"

When we were in public I always called Clint 'dad'. He said it was less conspicuous, but I had an inkling he actually considered me his daughter, and was leaving me an invitation to consider him my father. No matter what I look like, I can never be a child. That was ripped away from me almost longer ago than I can remember.

The owner laughs amiably, "I'm sure that's a disaster."
I smile, "I've had worse."
"10 inch turkey, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, and cucumber?"
"You know me so well."
His eyes drag over to Peter, "What about your boyfriend?"
We exchange a look, and red springs across Peter's face, but neither of us move to correct him.
"Classic Italian, please." Peter says after a beat.
The owner nods, "coming right up."

After a few minutes the owner gives us our sandwiches and we sit outside on the old wooden tables that had probably been there longer than either of us had been alive.

I pull my left knee into my chest comfortably resting my arm on it, "What'd you want to talk about?"
I almost hope he's not telling me he's Spider-Man. I hate the thought that he trusts me. It's misplaced. I'm a liar.
"Please don't be mad."
"Why would I be mad?"

He looks around and leans over the creaky table, "I'm Spider-Man."
I mock surprise, "there's no way."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."
"So you aren't Tony Stark's intern?"
He shakes his head, "I lied, I'm sorry."
I shrug, "you had to be sure you can trust me first."
I swallow hard. I feel like vomiting. Lying had always been incredibly easy for me, but lately it's harder and harder.

He smiles, "thank goodness, because I-"
He cuts himself off and takes a giant bite of his sandwich.
I furrow my brow, "What?"
"Nothing."
"Might as well tell me now."
He takes a deep breath.
"I really like you." His voice drops to a low whisper. If my hearing wasn't so good I'm not sure I would've even caught it.
Oh.

The thought of telling him I don't feel the same breaks my heart. I don't know what it's like to have a crush, but the way he makes me smile can't be anything else. But I can't start a relationship like this. I can't tell him I like him while I'm lying to his face. Tony will no doubt be mad no matter what I do. This went against everything I had ever learned. If I tell him I don't feel the same, he'll leave. If I tell him who I am, he'll leave. All I can do is lose.

Peter looks everywhere but my eyes.
"I like you too." I admit.
Peter's eyes lock with mine and he smiles.
I have to talk to Tony tomorrow.
"MJ called it like....a week after we met." I tell him.
"MJ always knows everything. She's gotta be like a Russian spy or something." He kids.
I force a smile, does he know or was that just a poorly timed joke?
"MJ could take over the world if she wanted to." I muse.
"The avengers wish they had her." He kids.

I sigh, "I have to do those stupid history questions when I get home. I need to stop procrastinating so much."
Peter cringes, "I always fail those."
"Do you wanna do them together?"
"Yeah, you always get the answers right and they're tanking my GPA."
I laugh, "my eyes secretly search the internet for the answer and so I complete them with minimal effort."
"Yeah ok." He answers sarcastically.
For once, there was a lie that didn't hurt anyone. Though it used to me true, all my eyes do now is see. Which is starting to feel pretty lame if I do say so myself.

"So." I drop the thick textbook on the table, "chapter 27"
"Careful, you're gonna break the table" Peter jokes.
I laugh, "we're not going to get anything done are we?"
Peter lets out a dramatic sigh, "we can if we have to."
"I though you liked school."
"I'm starting to change my mind. Mr. Petrov is just so boring, and his accent is so think I can barely understand him. He might as well just speak Russian."
"That'd be crazy if he was just like," I point to the textbook and mimic a stern face, "'Мистер. Паркер, выполни задание (Mr. Parker do your assignment)'."
"Woah, you speak Russian?"
"Yeah, the language department at my old school was really good."
"Is there anything you can't do?"
Tell the truth apparently.
"I'll let you know when I find something." I kid.
He looks down at the table and blushes, "I'm really lucky to have met you."
"Trust me, I'm the one who's lucky to know you."