Chapter Text
Life enters a new pattern. Peter starts at the Daily Planet at the start of autumn. By the time the first frost sets in, he’s balancing between being Spider-Man, learning the journalistic ropes for his new job, and working on a special project with the bonsai tree he found. He’s no longer selling photos piecemeal to an editor; he’s earning an actual salary, with benefits, and that comes with the expectation he’ll contribute to more than just photos. Clark, Lois, and Jimmy each take turns teaching him the basics, and Perry’s even floated the idea of sending him to night school for a degree.
Krypto visits him every now then, gently scratching at his balcony door at night. Peter happily lets the pup inside, ruffles his ears, and plays tug of war with whatever stick--and stick is a loose definition, at one point the dog shows up with iron rebar clutched between his teeth--the dog brings.
“Check it out,” Peter asks, showing off the bonsai tree. “Think she’ll like it?”
Krypto tilts his head, stares at the tree, then barks happily and wags his tail hard enough to send a brisk wind through the apartment, bouncing up and down on his front paws. Peter ruffles his ears.
“Well, I've got dog approval, so that's good,” he muses. He tosses Krypto a piece of sausage off of his plate. “Okay, I'm almost late. Gotta go.”
Krypto floats up into the air and snaps up the sausage before flying out of Peter’s balcony door. Peter grabs his bagel sandwich and leaves for work minutes later.
* * *
He's barely on time, but he is on time, which is a novelty for him. He and Clark are usually the last ones in the door, and while he doesn't get much attention, the same isn't true for Clark, who towers over almost everyone in the building.
“What’s up, pretty boy,” Steve calls out when Clark passes him.
Clark gives him an awkward grin, brushing the comment off like a joke when Steve laughs at his obvious discomfort. Peter’s annoyance rockets up at the sound of it.
“Steve, my man, you have got to work on your approach. I’ll never fall in love with you if you can’t even look me in the eye when you say hello,” Peter says, dropping his elbows onto the man’s desk and resting his head on the palm of one hand. “How can I admire your strange, caterpillar-like mustache if you’re always looking down?”
“What?” Steve asks.
“You’re lonely, man! If you’re hitting on Clark like that, you need some coaching. I can help with--”
Steve grumbles, and pushes back from Peter, shooting him an annoyed look. Lois coughs on her coffee, Clark hides a small smile, and Jimmy smirks.
“Freak.”
“You’ll win my heart one day, Steve. I believe in you,” Peter says, pushing himself up and heading for his desk.
Jimmy is fully absorbed in his current story, but he holds out his fist for a bump as Peter passes by, heading for Lois.
“You don’t have to keep jumping to my defense when Steve starts in on me, you know,” Clark says quietly when he gets close, amused. “It’s okay. He’s just joking around.”
“I can’t stand bullies,” Peter says. “I know you like the guy because you like everyone, but I’m not going to sit there and listen to him puff up and insult you just because he’s an insecure jerk.”
Clark grins. “You’re a good man, Peter.”
“Thanks,” Peter says, checking over his camera. He claps Clark’s shoulder with a hand--it’s a bit like slapping a brick wall--and holds up the camera. “I better go see what Lois wants. Lunch?”
“Sure,” Clark says cheerfully. “That’d be great!”
He likes Clark. The guy is friendly, almost to a fault, and optimistic in a way that Peter naturally isn’t. It’s a refreshing point of view to have, and while the guy is a complete dork, it’s charming. Between Jimmy, Clark, and Lois, Peter’s found a group of friends he’s never quite had before. Of course, Supergirl and Krypto are a part of that, too.
Lois is sitting at her desk, coffee in hand, scrolling on her phone. Her laptop is open, with a document half finished sitting on the screen. Peter squints over her shoulder.
"Spider-Man: Creepy Copycat?" he asks.
"Working title," Lois says breezily. "Clark has Superman, so I'm going to dig into this Spider guy. I haven't really started yet, it's a backburner story to poke through when I need a break from the usual."
"He's not that creepy," Peter says.
"Spiders are creepy, Parker."
"They're a vital part of the biosphere, Lois."
Lois smirks, logging out of her computer and standing up. “I take it you’re a Spider-Man fan?”
“Something like that,” Peter says.
“Let’s talk about it on the way,” Lois says, checking something on her phone. “Just got a lead. Come on, shutterbug.”
Peter grabs his camera and sandwich and follows her, speaking around bites. “Is this related to the guys who broke into your apartment awhile back?”
“Yep. Just got a tip from a somewhat reliable source in Gotham about their next move.”
Peter has been here long enough to immediately bring to mind several horror stories about that city. He considers himself beyond lucky to land in a place like Metropolis. He can’t even imagine the nightmare he would’ve gone through if he’d ended up inside Gotham.
“Should you trust those tips?” he asks.
“In this case, yes. And you’re coming with me, so I'm safe if anything goes sideways.”
She says this facing Peter, but her eyes have drifted over to an unhappy looking Clark.
“Sure, but now I'm asking for hazard pay,” Peter says.
“Best I can do is sandwich.”
“Deal,” Peter says. At her amused look, he grins. “Hey, I’m a cheap date.”
“I’ll let Supergirl know,” Lois retorts.
Dammit, she's uncannily good at getting the last word.
As it turns out, her sources are more than good. They're perfect. Between the tip off from her source and Peter’s natural ability to sneak around unseen (out of her view), they get the story, the proof, and the pictures they need for a frontpage headline. Lois is laser focused on the story, and drives them straight back to the Planet once they've finished their questionably legal spying. She spends the rest of the day on that story, only looking up when Peter gets ready to leave for the day.
“Oh, hey, Parker--try to get some photos of Spider-Man when you get the chance!” Lois calls out.
* * *
He stops by the apartment after work, dropping his bag near the door before checking his laptop. It’s set up beside the bonsai tree, connected to a series of wires that run from the laptop to the soil. He isn’t surprised to see a message waiting for him.
OneTerrificMan: Status?
AmazingRegularMan: All good! Thanks for the help earlier. I think I’ll give her the gift later this week. You really know your stuff.
OneTerrificMan: I know damn near everything.
OneTerrificMan: Hope your friend likes it.
AmazingRegularMan: you and me both
As it turns out, bonsai trees are particularly difficult to take care of. There’s a reason why people dedicate entire lives to caring for them, and whoever previously had this tree clearly decided they were in over their head. Or simply decided to give up, which is a little sad.
He’s a lot of things, but he’s not particularly renowned for his ability to keep to a steady schedule, so it’s been a learning curve. Right now, he’s built a program to monitor the tree’s health through a sensor he placed in the soil, and to add water or nutrients to the soil as needed. It’s worked perfectly, but he still wanted some back up. He resorted to using this universe’s internet to find help, and he was lucky to find it: some guy messaged him within seconds of the post, and has helped him with his little project over the past few weeks. He’s a little gruff, a little standoffish, but Peter assumes that’s because the internet is terrible at broadcasting tone. The guy has been nothing but helpful, and first pointed out that his bonsai tree--a begonia--has branches from another tree grafted onto it. A pavonina, which has leaves that match perfectly with his little scheme. Why someone would go to so much trouble just to abandon their tree next to a dumpster is beyond him.
He checks the tree over, then changes into his suit. He can do one quick patrol tonight.
* * *
The next day, he’s on his way to work when his senses spike, followed by screams for help. A building two blocks away is a flaming inferno. He’s already ten minutes late for work.
That doesn’t stop him. He sprints for a nearby alley, ducking inside it before leaping up onto the wall to stand sideways as he starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. To his utter shock, Clark Kent also ducks into the alley from the opposite direction, pulling open his own shirt. They both stop, stare at each other, Peter standing parallel to the ground while Clark is floating a few feet above it. Both of them have their shirts half open, revealing their supersuits beneath.
“Um,” Clark says.
“Dude!” Peter says, pointing at him. “Seriously?”
“I was going to tell you!” Clark says, a touch defensively. “Look, go, I’ll cover for you at work. We can’t both be late.”
“Deal.”
Clark gives him a quick double thumbs up and goes back out onto the street, buttoning his shirt up as he goes. Peter finishes changing and leaps into action.
* * *
“You’re late, Parker,” Perry calls out from his office.
“There was a fire. I got some great photos of everything--”
“Was it interesting enough to get pictures and make yourself late?”
“Spider-Man was there,” he says, a touch nervously. “Lois is doing a story on him.”
Perry pauses, tilts his head, nods. “Okay.”
“Send me those,” Lois adds from the coffee station. She’s in the middle of making her abomination coffee again.
“You...took pictures of yourself putting out the fire?” Clark asks quietly, moving closer so the others can't hear.
“Yeah, Lois needs pictures, I need to keep my job. Win-win,” Peter says, surreptitiously wiping some errant soot off of his cheek. He’s going to smell like smoke for the rest of the day.
“This is ethically questionable,” Clark mutters.
“More or less ethical than interviewing yourself for a front page story?” Peter retorts.
Clark pauses, squints, and says, “Fair enough.” And then he grins. “Good work, by the way.”
Peter grins back.
* * *
After their accidental identity reveal, Peter and Clark become thick as thieves at work. And, as it turns out, after work. Superman drifts over one night while Peter, in full Spider-Man suit, is sitting cross legged on the side of one of the taller buildings of Metropolis, fiddling with one of his webshooters. He’s been trying to mimic the sleek design of Peter One’s webshooters with some success. He thinks he can get away with wearing the webshooters as heavy bracelets at work, hidden under his shirtsleeves. It could be useful.
He squints at the webshooter, and says, “You know, at first I thought that stuff was coming out of your hands.”
“Nah, I cook this stuff up in my kitchen,” Peter says. “My big brother shoots it out of his wrist, though.”
Superman pauses, makes a face. “That’s...interesting--”
“Oh, it's super gross, but really interesting,” Peter says cheerfully. “Need a patrol buddy? I'm going to swing through downtown and a few other spots before calling it.”
Superman perks up. “Sure! We can stop at my favorite diner on the way home.”
“They have good breakfast food there?” Peter asks.
Superman grins. “The best.”
“Good. It’s my favorite meal of the day,” Peter says.
“Me too,” Superman says. “Come on, let’s go.”
* * *
Metropolis isn’t a dangerous city. In fact, it’s the opposite: between Superman, the Justice Gang, and Peter, the city has never been safer. It helps that Lex Luthor, the source of most of the issues in the city, is currently in prison for almost dropping the planet into a multidimensional hole. A few smaller issues--a break in and a couple of fires--take up the majority of their patrol time together. They find themselves wandering into the diner much sooner than Peter expects.
They grab a booth, sit down, and Superman orders half the menu. Peter is more conservative with his order. He takes in the scene of the diner, which is decorated with the almost traditional chrome metal and red leather booths. Eventually, his attention drifts to the window, where a massive, building sized jellyfish thing drifts past the skyscrapers, blasting lasers from its tentacles. The Justice Gang catches, blocks, and absorbs the laser blasts thanks to the guy with the green ring, but it almost looks like an even fight. Superman doesn’t even look up from his omelet.
“So, you and Supergirl...” He trails off, clearly unsure of what to say beyond that.
“She needs a friend right now, not a boyfriend,” Peter says, distracted by the massive space jellyfish firing laser beams out of its tentacles at the Justice Gang. “Should we help them with that?”
“Hm?” He looks out of the window, shrugs. “Oh. Nah, they have it. This happens all the time.”
No wonder the rent is so cheap here.
Still, his spider senses aren’t reacting to the jellyfish right, and Superman isn’t bothered, so it’s probably safe.
It really is a good diner. Peter makes a note to come back sometime.
The lightshow from the Justice Gang’s fight with the giant jellyfish is nice ambience.
* * *
A few days after that, Supergirl pays him a visit. She taps on his balcony door, and he opens it for her, grinning.
“Hey! Perfect timing, I was just thinking about you.”
She raises an eyebrow at that, but smiles a little. “You were?”
“Yup. Realized I didn’t have a way to actually, you know, call you,” he says.
“Oh. Just call my name.”
“Supergirl?”
“Kara,” she says. And adds, “Or Supergirl, if you’d like. I’ll hear it. So will Krypto.”
“Even on the other side of the space?”
“Maybe not that far, but definitely on planet earth,” she says, stepping inside. “I can single out your heartbeat from everyone else’s. Why did you want to call me?”
He grins, a little giddy and excited despite himself. He closes the balcony door behind her, and while he doesn’t quite skip over to the side of his apartment where his little project is housed, it’s a close thing. She follows him, amused and curious by him.
“I have a gift for you,” he says, stepping in front of the bonsai tree to do a few last minute checks.
She floats to the side, peeking around his shoulder. She looks amused. “A tree?”
“Yes. Kind of. So, this will only work in a sort of red tinged light, but if you do this--” he says, adjusting a nearby lamp and tree just so before hitting the switch. When he gets the angle just right, he steps back, grinning. “There!”
The deep green leaves shift colors, becoming red and blue. The green is still there, and it shows through, with the leaves and trunk gaining red and blue highlights in the new light. It works better than he expected, a curious mix of all three colors shimmering in their own distinct ways. Threads of red and blue tracing the outline of the leaves.
“I know it's probably not very close to the tree you had outside your window on Krypton, but I thought it could be a, you know, memento? A little bit of your old home and new home, mixed together--” He turns to face her and stutters to a stop.
Supergirl is staring at the tree, her expression caught somewhere between awe and nostalgic grief. She reaches out and touches the tree lightly with her fingertips, gently running her hand over the leaves. She stares at it for a long moment before turning to face him. She grabs hold of his arms and pulls him close, slipping her arms under his and pressing close, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Peter wordlessly returns the hug, simply holding her. He can feel the careful strength in her arms and is surprised by how warm she is, as if she’s freshly stepped out of the sunlight. As if she carries a part of the sun itself with her.
“Thank you,” she says, emphasizing the hug with a gentle squeeze. “This is---thank you.”
He decides to not ruin the moment by rambling, and simply nods, returning the hug. It’s the first one he’s had since Peter One and Peter Two hugged him back in New York.
“Kal was right. You’re a good man, Peter,” she says, stepping back from him. She looks over at the tree, glittering green, blue, and red in the red tinged light.
“He kind of likes everyone.”
“Yeah, he’s kind of right to do that,” she says, smiling fondly. She adds, “Don’t tell him I said that.”
He grins. “What, that I'm a good guy?”
She rolls her eyes and shoulder bumps him, smirking back. “That he’s right. He needs someone around to keep him grounded.”
“Good point,” he says, relieved she likes the gift. He needs to send a thank you to the guy that helped him out with this.
Kara starts to say something, pauses and tilts her head.
“Gotta go?” he asks.
“I do. Sorry, it’s important,” she says. She floats up, kisses his cheek. “Thank you. I’ll see you again soon, okay?”
“Be safe,” he says, fighting back a small blush.
She’s gone in an instant after that, leaving him alone in the apartment.
He realizes, suddenly, that he's having a great day. That he’s had a series of them ever since he fell into that cell in Lex Luthor’s prison.
And that panics him. He’s Peter Parker. There’s no such thing as a good day without an equally horrifyingly painful one to balance it out. He doesn’t have good days. At least, not without a cost. And he hasn't felt this good since--
Since Gwen.
That thought lingers for a bit.