(no subject)
Title: Daybreak
Author: Ccat_13145
Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all! If I did, One More Day wouldn't have happened, and this fic wouldn't exist
Comic: Spiderman
Spoilers: (if applicable): One More Day
Pairing/Characters: Spiderman/MJ, possibly Steve/Tony if you squirt hard enough (certainly nothing worse than Marvel normally does)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When door closes, another opens, or three universes where One More Day had a positive Impact
Author's Notes: (if applicable): This fic has being in the works ever since I read One More Day, so I'm aware it's taken a while to write. First time writing Spiderman, so please be gentle. All set in the universes shown in Spiderman The Amazing Spider-Man vol. 3, 545. The Universe with the little girl, I've also tied to the second "What if: Civil War" verse. I hope people enjoy this.
Warnings for mentions of substance abuse, minor character death, and slash
Peter Parker sat bolt upright in bed, bellowing for lights, the sweat pouring off him. As the lights came on, bringing into view his penthouse apartment, he tried to force his breathing to steady.
“Just a dream.” He muttered. “Just a stupid fucking dream. Get it to together Parker, or you’ll end up as nuts as Stark thinks you are.”
His hands flayed out to the night stand, knocking the glass tumbler off there. It fell though the air and as he reached out to catch it, he had a sudden vision of his dream
“No thanks..” a young man with the same brown hair, the same brown eyes, rubbing his hand on the back of his head just like he had, when he was unsure or nervous.“It’s not that I don’t drink, it’s just that as a rule I chose not to.”
On top of his head rested a red and black mask with bug eyes. It matched the clothes he was wearing, even the spider on his chest.
He shook his head mentally. His subconscious was weird. Why would it think in another dimension he was one of Stark’s crew?
Stark.
His mind drifted to the party, two week or was it three ago
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“Lay off it, Stark.” He turned to glare at Tony Stark, immaculate as ever in a white shirt, as though he hadn’t being fighting Ultron on the news less than an hour ago. The same smile, the same charisma that Peter tried so hard to imitate, but normally just ended up falling flat. “If you want to be a party pooper, go bug Wayne, he’s had more to drink than I have.”
Stark’s eyes sparkled for a minute. “You willing to bet on that?” Bruce Wayne had finished talking to some blonde and lifted his head. For a moment, his eyes twinkled nearly as brightly as Stark’s, and he raised his own glass as though in salute. Peter tried not hate them, but it was hard. They were both so good at this wheeling and dealing, at greasing palms, a million times better than he would ever be.
“Beyond that, there’s a difference between a man who’s drinking because he enjoys it, and one who’s drinking because it’s the only way to drown out those voices in his head.”
His blue eyes were boring into Peter’s and while it shamed him to admit it, Peter dropped his gaze first, deliberately finishing his scotch.
Tony sighed. “If you ever want help, with anything, here’s my card.” He held it out towards Peter, who pocketed it. He didn’t have a drinking problem, but having Tony fucking Stark’s mobile number couldn’t be bad.
“Excuse me; I have to get back to my date.” Tony glanced at Peter, before slipping though the crowd. “You can call at any time, alright? Day or night?” He flashed the million dollar Tony stark grin. “Everyone knows how late I’m up.”
The tumbler fell to the floor, shattering.
He didn’t know why, but he fiddling with his wallet, digging out that card from the recess where he’d stuffed it, dialling the number, his fingers shaking, let the phone ring once, twice.
“Hello?”
His breathing was still raggedy.
“Peter?”
“Tony I...” he didn’t understand what was going on, just that something was fantastically wrong at the moment and that he need to fix it. “I need help.”
Silence reigned at the other end of the phone for two seconds before Tony voice said carefully, “Where are you?”
“At home.” He was gripping the bedside table now, desperately trying to stay up. “Tony, I...”
He heard Tony sigh and then swear, “Fuck it, give me twenty minutes. And Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing the right thing.”
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/**//*/*
Peter Parker sat bolt upright in bed. Next to him, Mary Jane Watson Parker, shifted,
“Peter? Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine.” And it was. His spider sense was quiet, even though his heart was beating like a drum. “I’m just going to go check on May.”
“Hummuh.” He smiled as his beautiful wife rolled over and fell straight back to sleep. He didn’t blame her. It was tough enough for any new mother to balance family life and a career, but when your husband was spider man, and your home the Avengers mansion...
Quietly opening the bedroom door, he made his way down the deserted corridors. He had wondered time and time again if he was smart to accept Stark’s offer to bring his family here, to raise his daughter here. Yes, it boasted the best security system in New York, but it also got attacked more frequently than anywhere else in New York, with the possible exception of the Baxter building.
Slowly, he pushed the door open to his daughter’s room. May Parker lay fast asleep on the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around the Spiderman pushy that Tony had given her when she was born and her red hair falling over her pillow.
As beautiful as her mother, and already with her mother’s talent for wrapping Logan around her little finger. Cyclops had offered a fortune for pictures of Logan playing tea parties (with a pink hat and purple feather bower), but somehow the film always got damaged before he could hand it over.
“Peter?”
He turned to see Logan standing in the corridor, jeans flung over an old shirt that Peter knew was mainly what Logan wore to bed.
“What you doing up kid?”
Peter glanced back at May, before closing the door. “Just checking.” He shrugged, smiling at the other man. “Didn’t mean to wake anyone else.”
“You didn’t.”
The mutant’s eyes made it firm that they weren’t going to be talking about the reasons he was awake, not that Peter was inclined to press.
No one had being sleeping brilliantly since Genosha.
He nodded. “Guess I better get back to bed.”
Logan grunted, pushing past Peter, probably heading down to the basement to complete his nightly perimeter patrol.
“Hey Logan?”
The mutant turned.
“You ever wonder what things might have being like, if you’d done something differently?”
Logan’s face contorted and for a second Peter wanted to curse. How could he have being so thoughtless?
“Every single day, kid.” Logan seemed to be laughing, but it was a bitter noise that echoed down the corridors. “But it’s a waste of time.” He shrugged. “Life is what it is Parker; all you can do is work with what you’re given and remember things could always be worse.”
Yeah, Peter thought, thinking of the young man who looked like him, but was prepared to trade his wife, his chance of a family, for his aunt. They could be.
//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
New York Nights in the summer were a real bitch, Peter Parker thought, jolting awake.
He’d being sitting on couch, test running a new game and must have dozed off, because the TV was blinking at him, telling him he was dead.
Rubbing his eyes, he pushed the console to one side, trying to remember his dream.
There had being a little girl with red hair, a guy in his pyjamas and, his heart started beating faster at the memory, a devil. The guy in pyjama (him?) was making a deal to save someone life.
He pauses, running his mind over that. His bosses have being looking for something new in the games front, a game where the devil could be seen as one of the good guys; you can’t get more cutting edge than that. O.K. It would upset some of the fundamentalists groups, but as his boss always says the only bad publicity is no publicity.
He heads over to the laptop, trying to remember everything Aunt May (God Rest her Soul) told him about deals with the devil.
/*/*/*/*/**//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
“This is a good group.” Stark says, as his driver, (Happy Hogan, formerly boxer, being driving Stark for nearly 20 years, loyal as anything), “But if it doesn’t work for you, there’s hypnotises, all kinds of counsellors,” Stark is babbling. He has in fact being babbling since he picked you up for the meeting, and he keeps glancing at the passenger doors as though he thinks you’re going to bolt. “You could always try doing alone, but tried that once, or twice, didn’t really work for me. Might do for you.”
He glances over at you. You have being sober for twelve hours, thirty four minutes and twenty eight seconds, the longest period you’ve being sober for since you roomed with Harry at Empire State and he taught you to add whisky to your cereal, but you are not going to think about that, because that makes you think of Harry, and of finding him in the bathroom, ODed. The paramedics said that it wouldn’t matter if you’d been there five minutes earlier, or even an hour, that Harry was dead almost from the second he swallowed those pills, but you don’t believe them. Because you know somehow, someway, you were supposed to save him.
“Peter?” Tony’s hand is on your shoulder, blue eyes peering at you. “You O.K.?”
You try to say something anything, but can’t get the words out. “Happy!”
Happy Hogan is very experienced at pulling over quickly.
Unfortunately, even with his experience, Tony Stark is still going to be attending the alcoholic’s anomonous meeting with vomit on his shoes.
“Peter?” He’s kneeling on the ground with no idea how he got here, Stark’s hand is on his shoulders. “Fuck this, I’m calling a doctor.”
“No.” You reach out, managing to grab his arm before he can reach for the cell phone. “I’m alright.”
You’re not, not by a long shot. Your stomach feels like it’s on a rollercoaster and your whole body hurts. But If there’s one thing all Flash’s beatings in High School taught you, it’s how to stand up when your body feels like it’s being put through a cheese grinder. And you need to do this.
“Let’s just get back in the car.” Stark looks like he wants to argue with you, but He’s done enough self destructive things in the past (a lot of them in the suit) not to argue. Happy looks like he’s considering a detour to the ER.
You wait until you are back in the car, and Tony has made you wash your mouth out with iced water before you add.
“Tony.”
“Yeah?”
“I need a favour.” You fumble in your pockets, hands still shaking until you find the piece of paper. “I need you to find this...person, but I also need you not to tell me anything about them, about where they are, or what they’re doing until,” You swallow, trying to ignore the lingering taste of vomit. “Until I’ve being sober for a year.”
Stark takes the card, looking at it uncomfortably, “Peter, you know you stand the best trace of being successful if you get sober for you, not for anyone else.”
You remember the last time you spoke to her, the screaming row as she realised that you were sober again, that you weren’t the Peter Parker she remembered. The Peter Parker you both could face in the mirror.
“Who says I’m not?”
*//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
Splat
Logan raised an eyebrow over his cereal. “Good aim kid.”
“You shouldn’t encourage her.” MJ retorted, running around the table, grabbing a dish cloth on her way. “Tony, I’m so sorry.”
Tony looked down at the yellow blob on his tie, torn between protesting and lacking the energy. “It’s O.K.” he pulled the tie off, shoving it in his pocket.
“Hey if Tony isn’t wearing a tie does that mean I don’t have to?”
Three pairs of eyes turn on him, and there is absolutely no doubt that May is MJ’s daughter. Logan just chuckles. “Think the Father of the bride and the Best man has to wear a tie, kid.”
Peter held up his hands. “I’m just saying,” He paused and added. “And Logan isn’t wearing a tie?”
“Logan didn’t know he was invited.” The mutant replied, returning his attention to his cereal. “Thought this wedding was “Just for family””
“The Avengers were all invited and will all be attending.” Steve Rogers said, walking into the kitchen at exactly the same moment as Tony said. “Jarvis considers the Avengers family.”
“Beyond that,” MJ said, turning her attention back to her daughter. “Do you honestly think I stand a chance of getting Mayday into her bridesmaid dress if her Wolvie isn’t there?”
May Parker pulled a face. “It’s icky lilac.” She declared.
“We all have to wear things we don’t like at Weddings.” Logan observed, philosophically getting up. Squeezing past Steve he added “Thought looking like hell at 8 am in the morning was Stark’s thing. You want to be careful. People are starting to talk.”
Steve shot Logan his best remember-I-have-control-of-the-superhero-database-and-can- remove-you- from - it - or -unmask - you- at will stare (and Peter needed a short name for that stare), but Tony just rolled his eyes and handed Steve a cup of coffee.
“He’s right.” He observed. “You do look rough.”
Steve took the offered mug, running one hand over his face. “Formal visit from Genosha next week. All of members of the party have to be in the database before hand, and Magneto keeps changing his mind.” He shook his head. “Some days I think this job is more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Less than a war.” Tony reminded him. Steve blew on his coffee.
“True.”
/**//*/*/*/*/*/*/**//*/*/*/**/*/*//*
One More Day was the title marketing eventually decided on.
Personally Peter didn’t like it. He thought it was overall dramatic, but there was no doubt that it was effect.
In two months, he’d gone from being an unknown to “one of our hottest new games designers”. John Jonah Jameson was leading a campaign against HIS game, calling it immoral and accusing him of corrupting the young. He got hate mail.
He was invited to a Stark’s Industry Party. And he was attending, while people buzzed around, telling him how much they liked the game. Tony Stark had actually told him his game was “not bad, almost cool”
He thought he’d made an appropriate response, at least he hoped he had, as one, this was Tony fucking Stark, and two he had the most gorgeous woman Peter had ever seen on his arm, the type of woman he’d had in mind when he designed Mae, the heroine of the game, a head cheerleader, good time girl, the type every geek dreams of, but knows he doesn’t stand a chance with.
Her name was Mary Jane, though she worked as a model under MJ. She’d actually tried the game, and started asking Peter where he’d got the idea from. He found himself telling her about the dream and all the weird stuff he’d read, probably babbling like an idiot, when they both realised Tony Stark wasn’t standing beside her any more.
And in fact was out on the balcony with a blond. A very male blond.
“Figures.” There was a bitter note in her voice. “I always pick the losers. At least with Stark, I thought I was safe, you know? I mean he’s a recovering addict, so a distinct improvement on my last two.”
She paused, looking Peter over. “You got any vices, peter?”
Peter shrugged embarrassed “Weekly online poker game with some friends for air.” Which sounded completely pathetic.
“Poker huh?” MJ took a sip of her drink, looking at Peter with consideration. “Well tiger, I think you just hit the jackpot.”
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
Peter Parker had being sober for one year, two days, twenty two hours, fifty minutes and ten seconds.
His sponsor (not Tony, apparently it would be unprofessional, but some ex-military type named Carol) was a little concerned that he could tell you to the second how long since he’d had a drink, but she seemed to accept it as genius thing.
“Tony can do it too.” She said, one night when he’d finished vomiting in her toilet and was being comforted with ice cream. “Me, I can just tell you how many years it is, maybe months if I push it.” She paused. “Works best that way for me.”
His body had made the last year hell, to put it mildly. According to Dr. Blake (Avenger’s physician, but completely prepared to take on private patients as a favour to tony) he was the worst case of alcohol withdrawal syndrome he’d ever seen.
“How much alcohol were you putting in your body a day?” He’d asked after Peter had spent nearly two days confined to bed with agonising stomach cramps. Peter’s answer had earned him a long hard look, as though the doctor was trying to figure out how Peter was still alive.
But alive he was, with the small red chip that marked one year’s sobriety sitting in his wallet, while his fingers caressed the piece of paper in his hand.
Mary Jane Watson. It was strange it was to her his thoughts kept returning.
Perhaps it was that he’d always known what happened to Gwen. The alcohol got too much for her and she left. She was happy with Flash, something that he was still getting his head around.
He had called her, as per step 8, and she had being pleased to speak him. Flash was a little less sure, not that Peter blamed him. He hadn’t exactly being a great guy to him, but it was a start.
But it was MJ whose fate he wanted to know, who he asked Tony to track down, not that it was difficult.
America’s sweetheart, she was rarely off the screen.
This was crazy. He was a guy who’d screwed up too many times to deserve this. For all he knew there was someone else in her life right now, someone who deserved her, not an alcoholic, even one in recovery. All Tony had being able to tell him was she was unmarried, and as far as he could tell had never being arrested for anything worse than a parking ticket.
“You sure you wanna do this on your own boss?” Aleksei Sytsevich’s tone implied that he felt Peter should reconsider. Peter couldn’t honestly complain. Since he’d admitted his problem, Aleksei had become almost over protective, more so than his body guard normally was.
“I’m sure.” He grinned at the other man. “But you’re welcome wait.”
“Better not think I’d do anything else boss!” Aleksei sound offended at the suggestion he’d do anything else. Getting out of the car, Peter emailed himself a reminder to give the man a rise, however this turned out.
The apartment was in a nice area. Not Beverly Hills’ nice, but still pretty nice, with a video buzzer and everything.
Slowly, he pressed the button feeling the smoothness of the chip in his hand. He could do this.
“Hello?”
He pressed the button. “Hey MJ” he said, using the old nickname. “It’s Peter Parker.” He paused, suddenly uncertain. “Just wanted to know if a guy can get a second chance at the jackpot.”
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
“Tell me you have a camera Parker.”
“You’re just jealous ‘cause I’m dancing with the best looking red head in the room. No offense MJ”
Mary Jane Watson Parker waved the banter between Captain America and the Torch off with one hand. It was over, all but. Her stomach could stop twisting its self into knots.
Edward Jarvis had married May Parker, and there had being no supervillian attacks, no intergalactic incidents, and both parties had arrived in time for the wedding, along with their guests. It felt like a miracle.
“Only took you sixty years, matchstick.”
“Here.” She blinked as a glass of something bright coloured and sweet was thrust into her hand. “Look like you could use it.”
“Thanks Logan.” She smiled, watching as the mutant sat down beside her. He had lost his bowtie at some point during the proceedings, but he was still in his tux, which was more than she expected.
She smiled, watching as Logan drowned a beer.
It had taken her a while to understand, but Logan only flirted with her because he knew she wanted him to. He gave her a sense of still being an attractive woman, and if she had ever actually responded, he would have probably run a mile.
For all Cyclops’s bitching about Logan’s behaviour, she had never heard anything that suggested anything had happened between Logan and Jean. He had apparently adored her, but that was more or less it. Indeed, if Ororo was to be believed the one time anything could have seriously happened between them, it had being Logan who pushed Jean away, not the other way around. He had some old fashioned values, but was basically a sweetheart.
“Penny for them.” She paused, running her eyes over the mutant.
“Just thinking about how well today’s’ gone.” She shook her head. “No supervillian attacks, no crisis. It feels like a miracle.” She suddenly noticed Logan was smiling.
“What?” a thought planted it’s self in her brain. “Did you have something to do with this?”
Logan shrugged. “Called in some favours. Figured you could use the break.”
“That’s...” Slightly scary to realise exactly how well connected Logan was, “Sweet.”
Logan flushed. “Don’t spread it around huh?” He looked up. “Looks like your husband wants you.”
He grinned. “Off you go, we’ve got the rugrat.”
As Peter pulled her upstairs for some fun (and she was very glad the Mansion was sound proofed, especially as she saw Mr and Mrs Jarvis heading in the same direction, and something you just didn’t want to know), she couldn’t help smiling at the site of May Jane Parker ridding piggy back on Wolverine’s shoulders.
//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
Jackpot for Stark Industries Tiger?
Can life inmate fiction?
Well the answer seems to be yes as far as Peter Parker is concerned. Parker, famed designer of the “One more Day” Stark Box game, and it’s eagerly awaited sequel, “Brand New Day” was seen last night in Tavern on the Green going down on one knee.
The Lucky Lady? America’s Sweetheart, Mary Jane Watson.
These childhood friends have apparently being seeing each other ever since they were reunited at a party to celebrate “One More Day’s launch.
Tony Stark, who was attending the function as Mary Jane’s date, and shocked America by coming out on Television last year, refused to comment. He did however say that “who ever got MJ was a lucky guy” and that he hoped for an invitation to the wedding.
“Brand New Day” Launches on the 25th of this month. Its designers have refused to say anything other than it “ties up the plot holes left by the first game” it is expected to be a big hit.
Author: Ccat_13145
Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all! If I did, One More Day wouldn't have happened, and this fic wouldn't exist
Comic: Spiderman
Spoilers: (if applicable): One More Day
Pairing/Characters: Spiderman/MJ, possibly Steve/Tony if you squirt hard enough (certainly nothing worse than Marvel normally does)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When door closes, another opens, or three universes where One More Day had a positive Impact
Author's Notes: (if applicable): This fic has being in the works ever since I read One More Day, so I'm aware it's taken a while to write. First time writing Spiderman, so please be gentle. All set in the universes shown in Spiderman The Amazing Spider-Man vol. 3, 545. The Universe with the little girl, I've also tied to the second "What if: Civil War" verse. I hope people enjoy this.
Warnings for mentions of substance abuse, minor character death, and slash
Peter Parker sat bolt upright in bed, bellowing for lights, the sweat pouring off him. As the lights came on, bringing into view his penthouse apartment, he tried to force his breathing to steady.
“Just a dream.” He muttered. “Just a stupid fucking dream. Get it to together Parker, or you’ll end up as nuts as Stark thinks you are.”
His hands flayed out to the night stand, knocking the glass tumbler off there. It fell though the air and as he reached out to catch it, he had a sudden vision of his dream
“No thanks..” a young man with the same brown hair, the same brown eyes, rubbing his hand on the back of his head just like he had, when he was unsure or nervous.“It’s not that I don’t drink, it’s just that as a rule I chose not to.”
On top of his head rested a red and black mask with bug eyes. It matched the clothes he was wearing, even the spider on his chest.
He shook his head mentally. His subconscious was weird. Why would it think in another dimension he was one of Stark’s crew?
Stark.
His mind drifted to the party, two week or was it three ago
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“Lay off it, Stark.” He turned to glare at Tony Stark, immaculate as ever in a white shirt, as though he hadn’t being fighting Ultron on the news less than an hour ago. The same smile, the same charisma that Peter tried so hard to imitate, but normally just ended up falling flat. “If you want to be a party pooper, go bug Wayne, he’s had more to drink than I have.”
Stark’s eyes sparkled for a minute. “You willing to bet on that?” Bruce Wayne had finished talking to some blonde and lifted his head. For a moment, his eyes twinkled nearly as brightly as Stark’s, and he raised his own glass as though in salute. Peter tried not hate them, but it was hard. They were both so good at this wheeling and dealing, at greasing palms, a million times better than he would ever be.
“Beyond that, there’s a difference between a man who’s drinking because he enjoys it, and one who’s drinking because it’s the only way to drown out those voices in his head.”
His blue eyes were boring into Peter’s and while it shamed him to admit it, Peter dropped his gaze first, deliberately finishing his scotch.
Tony sighed. “If you ever want help, with anything, here’s my card.” He held it out towards Peter, who pocketed it. He didn’t have a drinking problem, but having Tony fucking Stark’s mobile number couldn’t be bad.
“Excuse me; I have to get back to my date.” Tony glanced at Peter, before slipping though the crowd. “You can call at any time, alright? Day or night?” He flashed the million dollar Tony stark grin. “Everyone knows how late I’m up.”
The tumbler fell to the floor, shattering.
He didn’t know why, but he fiddling with his wallet, digging out that card from the recess where he’d stuffed it, dialling the number, his fingers shaking, let the phone ring once, twice.
“Hello?”
His breathing was still raggedy.
“Peter?”
“Tony I...” he didn’t understand what was going on, just that something was fantastically wrong at the moment and that he need to fix it. “I need help.”
Silence reigned at the other end of the phone for two seconds before Tony voice said carefully, “Where are you?”
“At home.” He was gripping the bedside table now, desperately trying to stay up. “Tony, I...”
He heard Tony sigh and then swear, “Fuck it, give me twenty minutes. And Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing the right thing.”
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/**//*/*
Peter Parker sat bolt upright in bed. Next to him, Mary Jane Watson Parker, shifted,
“Peter? Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine.” And it was. His spider sense was quiet, even though his heart was beating like a drum. “I’m just going to go check on May.”
“Hummuh.” He smiled as his beautiful wife rolled over and fell straight back to sleep. He didn’t blame her. It was tough enough for any new mother to balance family life and a career, but when your husband was spider man, and your home the Avengers mansion...
Quietly opening the bedroom door, he made his way down the deserted corridors. He had wondered time and time again if he was smart to accept Stark’s offer to bring his family here, to raise his daughter here. Yes, it boasted the best security system in New York, but it also got attacked more frequently than anywhere else in New York, with the possible exception of the Baxter building.
Slowly, he pushed the door open to his daughter’s room. May Parker lay fast asleep on the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around the Spiderman pushy that Tony had given her when she was born and her red hair falling over her pillow.
As beautiful as her mother, and already with her mother’s talent for wrapping Logan around her little finger. Cyclops had offered a fortune for pictures of Logan playing tea parties (with a pink hat and purple feather bower), but somehow the film always got damaged before he could hand it over.
“Peter?”
He turned to see Logan standing in the corridor, jeans flung over an old shirt that Peter knew was mainly what Logan wore to bed.
“What you doing up kid?”
Peter glanced back at May, before closing the door. “Just checking.” He shrugged, smiling at the other man. “Didn’t mean to wake anyone else.”
“You didn’t.”
The mutant’s eyes made it firm that they weren’t going to be talking about the reasons he was awake, not that Peter was inclined to press.
No one had being sleeping brilliantly since Genosha.
He nodded. “Guess I better get back to bed.”
Logan grunted, pushing past Peter, probably heading down to the basement to complete his nightly perimeter patrol.
“Hey Logan?”
The mutant turned.
“You ever wonder what things might have being like, if you’d done something differently?”
Logan’s face contorted and for a second Peter wanted to curse. How could he have being so thoughtless?
“Every single day, kid.” Logan seemed to be laughing, but it was a bitter noise that echoed down the corridors. “But it’s a waste of time.” He shrugged. “Life is what it is Parker; all you can do is work with what you’re given and remember things could always be worse.”
Yeah, Peter thought, thinking of the young man who looked like him, but was prepared to trade his wife, his chance of a family, for his aunt. They could be.
//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
New York Nights in the summer were a real bitch, Peter Parker thought, jolting awake.
He’d being sitting on couch, test running a new game and must have dozed off, because the TV was blinking at him, telling him he was dead.
Rubbing his eyes, he pushed the console to one side, trying to remember his dream.
There had being a little girl with red hair, a guy in his pyjamas and, his heart started beating faster at the memory, a devil. The guy in pyjama (him?) was making a deal to save someone life.
He pauses, running his mind over that. His bosses have being looking for something new in the games front, a game where the devil could be seen as one of the good guys; you can’t get more cutting edge than that. O.K. It would upset some of the fundamentalists groups, but as his boss always says the only bad publicity is no publicity.
He heads over to the laptop, trying to remember everything Aunt May (God Rest her Soul) told him about deals with the devil.
/*/*/*/*/**//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
“This is a good group.” Stark says, as his driver, (Happy Hogan, formerly boxer, being driving Stark for nearly 20 years, loyal as anything), “But if it doesn’t work for you, there’s hypnotises, all kinds of counsellors,” Stark is babbling. He has in fact being babbling since he picked you up for the meeting, and he keeps glancing at the passenger doors as though he thinks you’re going to bolt. “You could always try doing alone, but tried that once, or twice, didn’t really work for me. Might do for you.”
He glances over at you. You have being sober for twelve hours, thirty four minutes and twenty eight seconds, the longest period you’ve being sober for since you roomed with Harry at Empire State and he taught you to add whisky to your cereal, but you are not going to think about that, because that makes you think of Harry, and of finding him in the bathroom, ODed. The paramedics said that it wouldn’t matter if you’d been there five minutes earlier, or even an hour, that Harry was dead almost from the second he swallowed those pills, but you don’t believe them. Because you know somehow, someway, you were supposed to save him.
“Peter?” Tony’s hand is on your shoulder, blue eyes peering at you. “You O.K.?”
You try to say something anything, but can’t get the words out. “Happy!”
Happy Hogan is very experienced at pulling over quickly.
Unfortunately, even with his experience, Tony Stark is still going to be attending the alcoholic’s anomonous meeting with vomit on his shoes.
“Peter?” He’s kneeling on the ground with no idea how he got here, Stark’s hand is on his shoulders. “Fuck this, I’m calling a doctor.”
“No.” You reach out, managing to grab his arm before he can reach for the cell phone. “I’m alright.”
You’re not, not by a long shot. Your stomach feels like it’s on a rollercoaster and your whole body hurts. But If there’s one thing all Flash’s beatings in High School taught you, it’s how to stand up when your body feels like it’s being put through a cheese grinder. And you need to do this.
“Let’s just get back in the car.” Stark looks like he wants to argue with you, but He’s done enough self destructive things in the past (a lot of them in the suit) not to argue. Happy looks like he’s considering a detour to the ER.
You wait until you are back in the car, and Tony has made you wash your mouth out with iced water before you add.
“Tony.”
“Yeah?”
“I need a favour.” You fumble in your pockets, hands still shaking until you find the piece of paper. “I need you to find this...person, but I also need you not to tell me anything about them, about where they are, or what they’re doing until,” You swallow, trying to ignore the lingering taste of vomit. “Until I’ve being sober for a year.”
Stark takes the card, looking at it uncomfortably, “Peter, you know you stand the best trace of being successful if you get sober for you, not for anyone else.”
You remember the last time you spoke to her, the screaming row as she realised that you were sober again, that you weren’t the Peter Parker she remembered. The Peter Parker you both could face in the mirror.
“Who says I’m not?”
*//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
Splat
Logan raised an eyebrow over his cereal. “Good aim kid.”
“You shouldn’t encourage her.” MJ retorted, running around the table, grabbing a dish cloth on her way. “Tony, I’m so sorry.”
Tony looked down at the yellow blob on his tie, torn between protesting and lacking the energy. “It’s O.K.” he pulled the tie off, shoving it in his pocket.
“Hey if Tony isn’t wearing a tie does that mean I don’t have to?”
Three pairs of eyes turn on him, and there is absolutely no doubt that May is MJ’s daughter. Logan just chuckles. “Think the Father of the bride and the Best man has to wear a tie, kid.”
Peter held up his hands. “I’m just saying,” He paused and added. “And Logan isn’t wearing a tie?”
“Logan didn’t know he was invited.” The mutant replied, returning his attention to his cereal. “Thought this wedding was “Just for family””
“The Avengers were all invited and will all be attending.” Steve Rogers said, walking into the kitchen at exactly the same moment as Tony said. “Jarvis considers the Avengers family.”
“Beyond that,” MJ said, turning her attention back to her daughter. “Do you honestly think I stand a chance of getting Mayday into her bridesmaid dress if her Wolvie isn’t there?”
May Parker pulled a face. “It’s icky lilac.” She declared.
“We all have to wear things we don’t like at Weddings.” Logan observed, philosophically getting up. Squeezing past Steve he added “Thought looking like hell at 8 am in the morning was Stark’s thing. You want to be careful. People are starting to talk.”
Steve shot Logan his best remember-I-have-control-of-the-superhero-database-and-can- remove-you- from - it - or -unmask - you- at will stare (and Peter needed a short name for that stare), but Tony just rolled his eyes and handed Steve a cup of coffee.
“He’s right.” He observed. “You do look rough.”
Steve took the offered mug, running one hand over his face. “Formal visit from Genosha next week. All of members of the party have to be in the database before hand, and Magneto keeps changing his mind.” He shook his head. “Some days I think this job is more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Less than a war.” Tony reminded him. Steve blew on his coffee.
“True.”
/**//*/*/*/*/*/*/**//*/*/*/**/*/*//*
One More Day was the title marketing eventually decided on.
Personally Peter didn’t like it. He thought it was overall dramatic, but there was no doubt that it was effect.
In two months, he’d gone from being an unknown to “one of our hottest new games designers”. John Jonah Jameson was leading a campaign against HIS game, calling it immoral and accusing him of corrupting the young. He got hate mail.
He was invited to a Stark’s Industry Party. And he was attending, while people buzzed around, telling him how much they liked the game. Tony Stark had actually told him his game was “not bad, almost cool”
He thought he’d made an appropriate response, at least he hoped he had, as one, this was Tony fucking Stark, and two he had the most gorgeous woman Peter had ever seen on his arm, the type of woman he’d had in mind when he designed Mae, the heroine of the game, a head cheerleader, good time girl, the type every geek dreams of, but knows he doesn’t stand a chance with.
Her name was Mary Jane, though she worked as a model under MJ. She’d actually tried the game, and started asking Peter where he’d got the idea from. He found himself telling her about the dream and all the weird stuff he’d read, probably babbling like an idiot, when they both realised Tony Stark wasn’t standing beside her any more.
And in fact was out on the balcony with a blond. A very male blond.
“Figures.” There was a bitter note in her voice. “I always pick the losers. At least with Stark, I thought I was safe, you know? I mean he’s a recovering addict, so a distinct improvement on my last two.”
She paused, looking Peter over. “You got any vices, peter?”
Peter shrugged embarrassed “Weekly online poker game with some friends for air.” Which sounded completely pathetic.
“Poker huh?” MJ took a sip of her drink, looking at Peter with consideration. “Well tiger, I think you just hit the jackpot.”
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
Peter Parker had being sober for one year, two days, twenty two hours, fifty minutes and ten seconds.
His sponsor (not Tony, apparently it would be unprofessional, but some ex-military type named Carol) was a little concerned that he could tell you to the second how long since he’d had a drink, but she seemed to accept it as genius thing.
“Tony can do it too.” She said, one night when he’d finished vomiting in her toilet and was being comforted with ice cream. “Me, I can just tell you how many years it is, maybe months if I push it.” She paused. “Works best that way for me.”
His body had made the last year hell, to put it mildly. According to Dr. Blake (Avenger’s physician, but completely prepared to take on private patients as a favour to tony) he was the worst case of alcohol withdrawal syndrome he’d ever seen.
“How much alcohol were you putting in your body a day?” He’d asked after Peter had spent nearly two days confined to bed with agonising stomach cramps. Peter’s answer had earned him a long hard look, as though the doctor was trying to figure out how Peter was still alive.
But alive he was, with the small red chip that marked one year’s sobriety sitting in his wallet, while his fingers caressed the piece of paper in his hand.
Mary Jane Watson. It was strange it was to her his thoughts kept returning.
Perhaps it was that he’d always known what happened to Gwen. The alcohol got too much for her and she left. She was happy with Flash, something that he was still getting his head around.
He had called her, as per step 8, and she had being pleased to speak him. Flash was a little less sure, not that Peter blamed him. He hadn’t exactly being a great guy to him, but it was a start.
But it was MJ whose fate he wanted to know, who he asked Tony to track down, not that it was difficult.
America’s sweetheart, she was rarely off the screen.
This was crazy. He was a guy who’d screwed up too many times to deserve this. For all he knew there was someone else in her life right now, someone who deserved her, not an alcoholic, even one in recovery. All Tony had being able to tell him was she was unmarried, and as far as he could tell had never being arrested for anything worse than a parking ticket.
“You sure you wanna do this on your own boss?” Aleksei Sytsevich’s tone implied that he felt Peter should reconsider. Peter couldn’t honestly complain. Since he’d admitted his problem, Aleksei had become almost over protective, more so than his body guard normally was.
“I’m sure.” He grinned at the other man. “But you’re welcome wait.”
“Better not think I’d do anything else boss!” Aleksei sound offended at the suggestion he’d do anything else. Getting out of the car, Peter emailed himself a reminder to give the man a rise, however this turned out.
The apartment was in a nice area. Not Beverly Hills’ nice, but still pretty nice, with a video buzzer and everything.
Slowly, he pressed the button feeling the smoothness of the chip in his hand. He could do this.
“Hello?”
He pressed the button. “Hey MJ” he said, using the old nickname. “It’s Peter Parker.” He paused, suddenly uncertain. “Just wanted to know if a guy can get a second chance at the jackpot.”
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
“Tell me you have a camera Parker.”
“You’re just jealous ‘cause I’m dancing with the best looking red head in the room. No offense MJ”
Mary Jane Watson Parker waved the banter between Captain America and the Torch off with one hand. It was over, all but. Her stomach could stop twisting its self into knots.
Edward Jarvis had married May Parker, and there had being no supervillian attacks, no intergalactic incidents, and both parties had arrived in time for the wedding, along with their guests. It felt like a miracle.
“Only took you sixty years, matchstick.”
“Here.” She blinked as a glass of something bright coloured and sweet was thrust into her hand. “Look like you could use it.”
“Thanks Logan.” She smiled, watching as the mutant sat down beside her. He had lost his bowtie at some point during the proceedings, but he was still in his tux, which was more than she expected.
She smiled, watching as Logan drowned a beer.
It had taken her a while to understand, but Logan only flirted with her because he knew she wanted him to. He gave her a sense of still being an attractive woman, and if she had ever actually responded, he would have probably run a mile.
For all Cyclops’s bitching about Logan’s behaviour, she had never heard anything that suggested anything had happened between Logan and Jean. He had apparently adored her, but that was more or less it. Indeed, if Ororo was to be believed the one time anything could have seriously happened between them, it had being Logan who pushed Jean away, not the other way around. He had some old fashioned values, but was basically a sweetheart.
“Penny for them.” She paused, running her eyes over the mutant.
“Just thinking about how well today’s’ gone.” She shook her head. “No supervillian attacks, no crisis. It feels like a miracle.” She suddenly noticed Logan was smiling.
“What?” a thought planted it’s self in her brain. “Did you have something to do with this?”
Logan shrugged. “Called in some favours. Figured you could use the break.”
“That’s...” Slightly scary to realise exactly how well connected Logan was, “Sweet.”
Logan flushed. “Don’t spread it around huh?” He looked up. “Looks like your husband wants you.”
He grinned. “Off you go, we’ve got the rugrat.”
As Peter pulled her upstairs for some fun (and she was very glad the Mansion was sound proofed, especially as she saw Mr and Mrs Jarvis heading in the same direction, and something you just didn’t want to know), she couldn’t help smiling at the site of May Jane Parker ridding piggy back on Wolverine’s shoulders.
//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
Jackpot for Stark Industries Tiger?
Can life inmate fiction?
Well the answer seems to be yes as far as Peter Parker is concerned. Parker, famed designer of the “One more Day” Stark Box game, and it’s eagerly awaited sequel, “Brand New Day” was seen last night in Tavern on the Green going down on one knee.
The Lucky Lady? America’s Sweetheart, Mary Jane Watson.
These childhood friends have apparently being seeing each other ever since they were reunited at a party to celebrate “One More Day’s launch.
Tony Stark, who was attending the function as Mary Jane’s date, and shocked America by coming out on Television last year, refused to comment. He did however say that “who ever got MJ was a lucky guy” and that he hoped for an invitation to the wedding.
“Brand New Day” Launches on the 25th of this month. Its designers have refused to say anything other than it “ties up the plot holes left by the first game” it is expected to be a big hit.