It was a spur-of-the-moment decision: Harlem was far away, and Spider-Man, in between poking at pages of the file Murad had gifted them from Octavius' statement, had been whining about how low he was running on web fluid— apparently, he could run out of something that he made in his own body?— so Yuri had offered to save him the swing. It shouldn't take him more than fifteen minutes to comb through the docks, and it's a good excuse to spend more time with him.
Maybe, if things stayed the way they'd gone this morning, she could give the friend thing one more chance.
It was surreal, in a sense, to see Spider-Man sitting in a car. Until today, Yuri doesn't think she's ever actually seen Spider-Man sit on his butt; he's always crouched on the balls of his toes, or hunched on the point where his ankles connect to the nearest wall, if he can bring himself to sit down at all.
He's in a strange mood: whether it's a good or bad one she can't quite tell. He has a lot of energy, that much is certain.
She's glad to see him with a little spring in his step, but if he doesn't stop pulling on the door lock she's going to push him out of the door while it's unlocked.
Hey, he's survived worse.
Click. Thump. He smacks the top of the lock, watching it snap back into place.
Click. Thump.
"Spider-Man." She grits her teeth as he pinches the plastic again. "Quit unlocking the door."
He stares at her, eye lenses blown wide with curiosity. "That's what that is?"
"You didn't know that locked the door? Have you never been in a car?"
He squints. "I mean, not never..."
He makes an aborted reach for the lock again, pulling his hand back to his side when his hands graze across the plastic. She snorts.
He drums his fingers against his knees instead.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. She rolls her eyes at his antics.
"My wrist itches," He announces, thumping his head against the window.
"Don't be whiny." She's not sure if he's complaining because he's bored or if she should actually be worried about his wrist. Maybe she should check. "Is it infected?"
"My wrist?"
Yuri shrugs. "I don't know how web-shooters work."
"My web-shooters are infected? What the hell does that even mean? Like a computer virus?"
She pushes down the brakes (maybe a little harder than necessary), stifling a smile when Spider-Man lurches forward, looking at her like he'd met the face of god along with the dashboard.
The scene outside the window is dreary, for lack of a better word. A lamppost, the bulbs flickering weakly onto the cracked sidewalk, marks the entrance onto the docks, the neglected wood soggy and warped where it meets with the concrete. Moss creeps over the edge and down the posts, giving the stretch to the darkened warehouse a sickly green color.
"We're here. Moving on," Yuri says, steering the conversation in a new direction as fast as possible. The sooner they reach the end of that particular subject, the better (mostly better for her dignity).
Spider-Man unlocks the door— on purpose, this time— and reaches for his seatbelt, not breaking eye contact as he slides out of the passenger seat. "I am never getting in a car again."
"Are you calling me a bad driver?"
He juts his neck forward incredulously, lenses blown wide in shock. "You just almost killed me."
YOU ARE READING
Overwhelmed- Spider-Man
FanfictionAU of Spider-Man PS5 game. <><><><> After the events of Devil's Breath, things were a lot for Peter. Between losing his aunt, and two of his idols ending up in prison, he was having a hard time trying to find guidance. On top of all that, he lost h...
