If They Knew All About You

Access and Entry

His eyes were glued to the notes in front of him, but the constant tick-tick-tick of the clock above the classroom door was inescapable, Spider-senses or not. As if he wasn't counting the seconds for the school day to be over already. And dreading it at the same time.

He had of course been to the Tower before. A couple of times in fact. While he still couldn't quite grasp where that overwhelming courage had come from that Friday night when he had climbed all the way up to the penthouse to repay Tony Stark's visit, the second time had been a lot more humbling. He absentmindedly scratched at the bandages still covering his abdomen underneath his shirt. There was a distinct tingling. By his medical expertise - fine, from what google said - that was supposed to mean that his wound was healing. A good sign, right? And his wound had improved considerably since the weekend. Thankfully. And Peter had been mindful to keep it clean and cared for. He had promised he would and he was going to stick to the deal he had made with Mr. Stark. As long as he stuck to the deal he would be fine.

Still, the prospect of walking into the Tower in full daylight, as an official intern, Mr. Stark's personal intern, it filled him with dread. It was damn awesome of course. On the surface, everyone would think that he was there helping Tony Stark. Working with Iron Man. But he knew the truth. He was there so Stark could keep an eye on him. Keep him in check. It was a... well, not really a punishment. He wouldn't go that far. Probation. That's what it was. He was watched and evaluated. And if he managed to stay on his best behavior he would get to be Spider-Man again. If he screwed up, well. He wasn't going to screw up.

The subway ride over to Manhattan was tedious. He hadn't been on that line in forever. There was never any reason for him to go to Manhattan. All that was there, were overprices shops and a whole bunch of tourists and rich people. No need to get out of Queens. Well, there was some crime in Manhattan of course, but he hadn't taken the train to get over the river for that. The cart he was in was packed. A few children laughing at fart jokes. A group of guys reenacting some kind of sporting event. The two girls sitting right next to him were sharing a set of headphones and Ariana Grande's voice echoed in his head like someone was trying to drill through his skull. A lady screeching into her phone on the other end of the cart. Everything was just too close, too loud, too much!

When the train finally got to Grand Central - 42nd Street, he jumped out as soon as the doors opened up. The amount of people on the platform was even worse than on the train, but Peter was quick to dodge people and fast to exit the station. Stark Tower was only a street from where he stepped out into the open air. He had to crane his head to look all the way up to Tony Stark's floors from where he stood on the sidewalk.

Just as he was about to turn the corner to the main entrance the soft vibrations of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. Private number. Huh. Who'd call him from an unknown number on a Wednesday afternoon? Probably one of those telemarketing agencies. He'd been so careful to check all the apps that Ned would send him to check out for possible data phishing. But he had barely canceled the call when his phone was vibrating again with another call. He stared at the words written across the screen in bold capital letters.

"PRIVATE NUMBER"

The letters kept flashing along with the vibration of the phone. His thumb hovered over the button to cancel the call. Something was off. Hadn't he read something about those kinds of telemarketing calls? Weren't they legally required to display their own number now? A split-second later his thumb hit the green receiver on the screen instead. He watched the letters disappear and a bright white timer flash up instead.

00:01

00:02

00:03

He shook himself out of his trance and swiftly held the phone to his ear.