thwipandquip | you know you're gonna be okay

[no witty response follows, not even a read receipt. should she call, peter's familiar voicemail greeting will tell her to leave a message at the beep.]

Goddammit, Peter Parker.

[ kate runs, no flies from her place to his, traffic laws be damned. why should she be beholden to them when life so often spits in the face of its own everytime one of these universes bleeds into the other? after running into her whiter, fresher-faced counterpart, kate had had a daunting feeling... and here they are.

the multiverse loves to play its favorites after all. ]

C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon.

[ get there, keys jingling — no not that one why does she even have that one — busting in, red in the face ]

Peter?!

[ and hoping to whichever god is listening that it's her peter. ]

[he's not sure how he's arrived here in this tiny apartment with sheets that remind him of his own, albeit a bit more threadbare, but peter isn't amused. his life is an absolute mess. dr strange was supposed to fix this, make people forget that he is spider-man, not send him off somewhere new. it's innate curiosity that has him taking a peek through this person's belongings, muttering to himself aloud as he takes inventory. peter knows it's not very nice, and if may were here he'd probably never here the end of his internal judgment but who in the world needs twenty pairs of sweats?

it's not until he gets to the web fluid and familiar but different blue and red suit that peter thinks that things are possibly even more wrong that he'd initially supposed. all that's before he feels that prickling at the back of his neck. his tingle.

whoever's arrived is objectively loud and he has to scramble to find somewhere to hide, climbing up to the ceiling seems like a good bet, if only slightly hampered by his panicked breathing.

just when he thought things couldn't possibly get worse...]

Futz.

[ it's a quiet breath, let out after a sweeping look around a clearly empty apartment. just like that, all the adrenaline that had kate racing there faster than she's ever driven before just drains right out of her, leaving her quiet and empty and spent. slowly, with limbs feeling like lead, she drags herself through the apartment with a familiarity of someone who's been here too many times to count, fingers reaching out to absently run over surfaces she can tell are there without even looking.

with a heavy sigh, she ends her walk in the very same bedroom our displaced hero is currently hiding in, leaning against a dresser to look over the few framed photos left behind. aunt may, uncle ben, a shitty selfie kate once took of them out on the fire escape one rare quiet new york morning, the reflection of some guy hanging upside down&mash;

...

come again?

kate freezes. stares. he probably gets that strange tingling feeling again right before kate picks up that frame and chucks it right up at the ceiling—

sorry peter the 2nd, kate sometimes defaults to hit first, ask questions later. ]

[the wise thing to do would be to leave, but for all the intelligence that he possesses, peter also has the tendency to yeet himself into troublesome situations. he listens to the soft not quite swear word, the steps of the woman in the kitchen, feels the vibrations of her sweeping through the living room, until she's at last making her way into the very room he's hiding in. he tries to make himself smaller, but he's not ant-man, so it just serves to make him look absolutely ridiculous as he looks at kate unblinkingly, realizing he's been caught in the light bouncing off the photos.

webbing it so it doesn't strike him in the skull is reflex, but he takes enough care to not fling it and smash the lovely frame, setting it down ever so gently atop peter b's dresser.

he makes his way down, hands up in surrender. he's harmless. not a threat. please don't throw another keepsake at him. please]

Miss? Please I can explain. Okay maybe I can't explain, but I'm not here to hurt you, I swear. I know what this looks like, but I didn't break in. I'm not a robber. I'm not I promise I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and and I don't think I'm supposed to be here.

[the babbling should be familiar, even if his face isn't, kate.]

you know you're gonna be okay — open post

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