Pointe Shoes and Spider Webs

13. Red Faces

Peter scrambles to sit upright, desperately reaching for his phone. I'm so screwed!  Peter picks up and holds the phone to his ear, still sitting on his butt on the floor. His legs spread slightly. Daphne stares at him, frozen in place. She tries to wrap her head around the fact that Peter Parker has Tony Stark's phone number.
"Mr. Stark?"
"Kid, what's going on? I got a notif that you activated F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Your body temperature spiked and your heartbeat's all over the place. Where are you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Mr. Stark, I promise!" Peter glances at Daphne. He probably needs to tell Tony he's not alone so Tony won't start talking about things that are Spider-Man related. "I'm with Daphne."

It's quiet for a second.
"Aha." Peter's eyes grow wide and he jolts as he realizes that Tony interpreted it very differently.
"No, no, it's not what you think it is!"
"Sure, kid."
"I was doing some tests with the equipment I borrowed and I overstimulated my nerve-endings. I couldn't think straight, I needed F.R.I.DA.Y. to find the regulator I brought."
"You over-" Tony interrupts himself.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark."
"Why are you doing tests with the girl?" Peter locks eyes with Daphne, who's now worried for him.
"We found out she has higher electricity levels than other people which is why I've been so on edge lately. We're trying to figure out how to stop the sensory overloads she causes in me."

"That's what labs are for, Pete." Tony clears his throat. "Those are controlled environments. A dance hall is not a controlled environment."
"You know whe-"
"Tracker."
"Right."
"Are you okay now?"
"Yes, I'm a 100% okay." Peter gestures with his hands.
"Good. Now hand the phone to Daphne."
"What?"
"You heard me." Daphne looks at Peter with a puzzled look on her face. Peter's brows curl up into a frown as he holds his phone out to Daphne. She stares at it, wide-eyed.

"He wants to talk to you," Peter mumbles quickly.
"What? Why would he want to talk to me?"
"Just take the phone, please," he pleads. She hesitantly grabs the phone from him. Her heart's beating in her throat as she stares at the timer counting up on the screen, indicating the call's still going. She slowly brings the phone to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Daphne, hi, dear." Daphne presses her lips on top of each other. She's talking to Tony Stark. The real Tony Stark. "Peter's told me a lot about you, but this electricity thing is new." The world seems to stop moving. Her breath gets stuck in her lungs.
"...Peter talks about me?" She can feel the blood rush to her face and she doesn't dare look at Peter.

Peter has a mental breakdown on the inside and is just about as red as Daphne is.
"Obviously," Tony scoffs. "Did he give you any flowers yet?" Daphne's eyes shoot to the carnation in the glass.
"He did." Daphne stares at the flower. "One white carnation."
"What a gentleman." She can hear him smile through the phone. Peter's ready to grab his phone back and throw it out the window with all his power.
"He is," she says quietly.
"Right, so next time you and Pete do tests like this, you come down to the lab cause I don't want to experience another heart attack." She assumes Tony is hooked up to every device Peter uses, which means he must've seen Peter's vitals go absolutely insane for a solid minute.

She decides to not ask any questions. Daphne then realizes what he said. He just invited her to his lab. She takes a breath and tries to play it cool.
"That's fair." Tony laughs at that.
"Alright, kid. I'm gonna get back to work." But Daphne isn't done chatting just yet. It's now or never.
"Mr. Stark, sir." She stumbles over her words and wants to punch herself in the face. Get your shit together, Daphne. "Before you go..."
"Hm?"
"Thank you for giving me this opportunity through the scholarship." It's quiet at the other end of the line. Her face twists with worry. Did she mess it up?
"Eh, it's nothing. I'm looking forward to seeing you dance at the Christmas performance."

Daphne freezes. He's going to the Christmas performance? She chuckles nervously.
"I didn't know you were coming?" She poses it as a question, hoping for an explanation.
"Well, now you do. Don't tell your classmates, kid. Gotta go!" And just as she wants to reply, he hangs up. She takes the phone away from her ear and looks at it and then at Peter.

"Well?" He asks, his cheeks still red from before. "What did he say?" She hands the phone back to Peter and clears her throat.
"He said that if we need to do more tests, we should do them at the lab. Not here." She looks at her hands, rather embarrassed.
"And?"
"That he's coming to watch the Christmas performance." Both of them stay quiet. The silence that falls between them is awkward and it feels wrong. Their silences are never awkward. "Did... Did he tell you to buy me the flower?" Peter gasps softly, unsure what to say. He glances at the carnation and then back at Daphne who looks at him with questioning eyes. He fidgets with his fingers and looks down at them.

"I have no idea what girls like," he admits. He wishes he could just disappear. How embarrassing.
"I like white carnations." She smiles kindly at Peter. He just stares back at her, having no idea what to do next. Daphne gets up and starts gathering Tony's devices that are all over the PVC dance floor. They seem to be intact. "We should probably do some dancing."
"Right." Peter shuffles to his feet, helping Daphne with the Stark Tech and biting the inside of his cheek as he realizes that he ripped the bag so far that he can't actually use it anymore.

Daphne walks to her dance bag and grabs something small from it. She carefully hands it to Peter.
"I always bring a tote bag just in case," she says. "You never know when you need it." He takes it and unravels the piece of cloth. "It won't fit all of it, but at least you won't have to carry everything in your arms.
"Thanks." He smiles at her with his lips pressed on top of each other. He fills up the tote bag while Daphne gathers the rest of the devices. They end up fitting most of the stuff in his backpack and the tote bag, so he doesn't have to carry all that much in his arms.

He hesitates before he puts the bag on the ground so he can get to the barre.
"Sorry," he mumbles.
"For what?"
"Everything that just happened."
"Are you kidding?" Peter looks at her, confused. "I just had a chat with Tony Stark."
"It felt awkward."
"Does it matter? It was cool as fuck." She tosses Peter his water bottle and he catches it with ease. She chuckles. "Didn't you tell me not to be sorry, like, ten minutes ago?" They lock eyes. "If I'm not allowed to be sorry then you're not either."
"Bu-"
"Nuh-uh," she interrupts, waving her hand in front of his face.

Her attention moves to the slap on bracelet he's now wearing. Peter follows her gaze and holds up his wrist so she can see it better. "Do you think if I touch you now, you'd still be super sensitive?"
"I honestly don't know," Peter admits. "It was able to stabilize my neurons and diffuse the situation, but I don't know how fast it responds."
"Do you want to try it?"
"What? You mean head to the lab?" Peter holds in a laugh. "As in, right now?"
"I dunno... What do you want to do?" Hold you.
"Maybe we should stick to just practicing ballet for now and meet up some other time?" Daphne nods, but she seems disappointed somehow.
"That's probably smarter..." Peter looks away, sucking on his teeth. His fingers rub his chin.

"You got time tomorrow?"
"I think so, yeah?"
"Friday evening is when I usually spend time with Mr. Stark in the lab, so there's guaranteed access."
"Wait, you mean Tony Stark will be there as well?"
"Probably, yeah." Daphne takes a few deep breaths.
"So, I will actually meet him?" Peter shrugs and repeats himself. He tries to stay cool, but this is honestly freaking him out just as much as it is freaking her out.
"Probably, yeah," he repeats. Daphne frantically takes a sip from her own water bottle, trying to process this entire situation.
"Well, fuck me then." She rubs her palms on her cheeks and then points at the bar as she turns to her phone for music. "Fifth position, two demi pliés and a slow ass grand plié. Tendus all the way around and end with four ronde de jambes."
"Yes, ma'am."