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The next two chapters [Do we have a deal? Yes or definitely? – Part 3 and Do we have a deal? Yes or definitely? – Part 3] are already available, and in a few hours [Do we have a deal? Yes or definitely? – Part 4] will be available as well.
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***
'Haaa… if regret could kill…' Peter let his head fall back for a second, the palm of his hand covering his eyes as he mentally went over every brilliant choice and decision that had brought him to that exact moment.
That whole thing about him not being even a little bit sorry for defending himself against Flash and Kenny? Yeah. He was rethinking that.
What was going on? Simple. After the bell rang, marking the end of first period and the start of the short break between classes, Peter casually went back to his locker as if nothing had happened… only to come face to face with the door dented inward, the metal bent, the lock misaligned, and a very clear imprint in the shape of a certain football player stamped right there.
Apparently, it had been a terrible idea to throw Kenny there.
Why the hell hadn't he thought of that at the time?
Peter stood in absolute silence for a few seconds, staring at the damage as if, by sheer willpower, the locker would unbend itself and go back to normal… It didn't work. 'Well, as long as it's functional, I guess I can live with it. It's not that ugly.' A lie. It was horrible. But admitting that meant admitting he had caused it out of sheer stupidity, and he was still in the denial phase.
He nodded to himself, convinced for about half a second that it wasn't a big problem before sighing and taking a step forward. Peter then dialed in combination into the lock, praying it still worked.
Click!
'Oh, I liked that sound.' He perked up at the click, but any trace of happiness vanished the moment he pulled the door and all he got in return was a dry creak of metal scraping against metal, a long, grating, painful sound to hear. 'Aaand, I did not like that sound at all.'
Peter tried to open it again, but the door didn't move.
He frowned, tilting his head to get a better look at the fit. The dent had misaligned the structure, probably jamming the door against the frame. Nothing a little force wouldn't fix.
Peter pulled the door harder.
CLANK!
"Oh..." He lowered his gaze to his hand.
The door simply came off… entirely.
He stood still for a moment, processing what had just happened. 'Honestly, I'm not even going to let this get to me,' Peter thought, staring flatly at the object that had once been his locker door.
"Wow, Peter!"
A familiar male voice exclaimed at his side, cutting through his thoughts. Peter slowly turned his head and came face to face with Harry, Mary Jane… and Gwen.
Great.
Perfect.
Exactly what was missing from that day.
"It's not what it looks like, you know." Peter commented, turning back and fitting the door back into place as best as he could. The result was a disaster: the door sat crooked, tilted, with one side sticking several inches out of alignment. "I'm just trying to—" He grimaced. "Improve the ventilation. It was really stuffy in there."
Harry laughed. "Putting Kenny against the locker wasn't such a good idea, huh?" he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he looked at the damage. For some reason, he seemed very entertained by the situation.
"It was the best idea I had all day," Peter replied, giving the door a pat. "The consequences just weren't very well thought out."
"Don't let that discourage you after that performance." MJ stepped closer with a smile that looked more like a predator who had just found interesting prey than anything else. "I didn't know you had all that in you, Tiger." She tilted her head, studying him. "Actually… I already suspected those pecs weren't there just to be admired." MJ added, poking his chest without any ceremony.
Peter let out a nervous chuckle. "You're going to make me blush like that— Ow!" He groaned and pulled his arm away when MJ suddenly pinched him. "Why did you do that?"
"That," she said, pointing at him with a serious look, "is for disappearing off the map. Do you know how many messages Gwen and I sent you? Because I do. It was a lot, and you didn't reply to a single one. We were worried, Peter," MJ explained before looking at Gwen, who hadn't said anything until then. "Right, Gwen?"
Peter followed her gaze and found Gwen staring intensely at him.
"Huh? Ah— y-yeah." Gwen seemed to snap out of a trance, her eyes darting sharply to the side. "I-if you were busy, you could've at least sent a 'hi'," she added in a low voice.
"Sorry," Peter said, bringing a hand to the back of his neck in an automatic gesture, his fingers tangling in his hair. "I've been… dealing with some important things." The excuse came out deliberately vague. "Speaking of that, how are you, Harry?"
"Getting better, little by little," Harry replied, lowering his gaze and losing his smile. "It's still... hard to think he's gone." He let out a heavy sigh. "But Gwen's been helping me a lot."
Peter felt his face freeze for a second. Just one second. Long enough for him to process the information, reorganize his thoughts, and push whatever was forming in his chest to the back of his mind, where it couldn't get in the way.
He was getting really good at doing that.
"Good for you," Peter said, a small smile appearing on his lips—not that nervous, awkward smile he used to wear when he didn't know what to say, but a controlled one. The kind of smile that didn't show anything behind it.
An awkward silence followed, which was quickly broken, thankfully, by MJ. "Look, we need to go, our next class is about to start. How about you grab your stuff from your locker and explain this whole change in your look on the way?" she said to Peter. "Because seriously, you just show up out of nowhere with a look like that and take down Flash and Kenny in the hallway? I think there's a lot of story there to tell."
"It's a long story," Peter said, pulling his locker door off and placing it on the floor so he could grab his book for the next class. "And kind of boring, to be honest. Maybe it's better to leave it for another time."
"Nothing you do is boring, Parker," MJ replied, and there was something in her tone that made Peter smile for real. "You can start telling us."
"Well, it all happened when I went to this dojo—"
***
[A few hours later]
The rest of the morning had been, to be completely honest, an exercise in endurance.
The classes went by in a blur of sideways glances and whispers that died the moment he turned his head—some students tried to play it off, pretending to look at the board or their phones, while others simply didn't bother hiding their curiosity.
It was as if he had grown a second pair of arms or something like that.
It was hard dealing with all that attention without his mask, and a bit embarrassing, but Peter managed to get through it and even thought he had gotten used to it. At least that's what he thought until he reached the cafeteria.
He sat in their usual corner, with MJ by his side and Harry and Gwen across from him. They had sat in that same arrangement many times before, the difference was that this time, it felt like the entire cafeteria was orbiting around their table. Half of the comments revolved around the fact that he had humiliated Flash and Kenny earlier, and the other half about... well, his appearance in general.
But Peter wasn't the only focus at their table.
There were conversations about Harry too. Yes, Harry, and the subject wasn't pleasant at all. From what little Peter managed to catch, the comments revolved mainly around Norman Osborn, and how Harry was to blame for the school losing the football championship trophy after playing the games under the influence of performance-enhancing drugs.
Fortunately, MJ completely took control of the table before any of them had to deal with it directly. Peter was genuinely grateful for that. She didn't leave him, Harry, or Gwen to fend for themselves in the minefield the cafeteria had become.
MJ kept talking nonstop, bringing up random topics, shifting subjects naturally, making jokes, teasing Harry, commenting on absurdly specific things she saw happening at other tables. Anything worked, as long as it kept the silence away for more than three seconds at a time.
And, to be fair, it worked — most of the time.
But even she couldn't completely stop the tension from settling between them. Because, between one sentence and another, there were always those small gaps, brief moments where no one said anything. And in those moments, the atmosphere grew heavy.
Peter and Gwen, for example, barely exchanged words. In fact, "barely" would still be generous.
They were short answers, monosyllables, comments thrown into the air without any clear direction. Nothing that could really be called a conversation. And even so, without speaking, her presence was impossible for him to ignore.
He could clearly feel, from time to time, her eyes settling on him, as if she were waiting for something or trying to say something.
And in some of those moments, she really looked like she was about to speak. Her lips parted slightly and she drew in a breath, but then she froze, looked away, and everything died right there, before it could truly exist.
Peter didn't make things any easier either, making no effort to start a conversation with her.
On top of that, at several moments throughout the classes and in the hallways between classes, he ran into Liz. And every single time, she turned her face away. Not in anger, nor with the contempt he might have deserved, but with a quickness that suggested she had very deliberately decided that what had happened in the janitor's closet hadn't happened. Or at least that it wouldn't be acknowledged in public.
Peter respected that. It hurt a little, but he respected it.
And there was the "jerk group" — as Peter liked to call Flash, Kenny, and the others athletes who made up the usual entourage.
He saw them in the hallway after the third class, gathered near the stairs. Peter prepared his automatic response for whatever might come. But nothing came. Flash looked at him with a strange expression — it wasn't anger or shame, it was something in between that Peter couldn't quite interpret — and looked away first. Kenny, who still had frosting stains on his ears, glared at Peter angrily, his mouth half open to say something, but Flash grabbed him by the arm, cutting him off.
That was… unexpected.
Peter didn't know whether he should feel relieved or on alert. In the end, he decided to be grateful. Apparently, Liz had kept her word and stopped any plans of revenge.
Even so, in the middle of all that confusion, looks, and strange silences, Peter managed to do something that truly mattered: he spoke to Professor Warren.
***
Disclaimer: This story and its characters belong to Sony Pictures and Marvel Comics (Disney). This is merely a fanfiction written by a fan, with no intention of infringement.