[ It’s the familiarity with which the man uses his name that has the last bite of hot dog tasting like ash on Spidey’s tongue. With his mask still half-covering his eyes and nose, leaving only his mouth free for food consumption, only the fewest of the few might ever deign to know his identity. And of those few, even less would call him out as such, even given the level privacy up here. He takes his secrecy pretty seriously, especially given just how much worse his life gets every time the secret gets out.
When he lifts his head, a whole flood of emotions goes through him, seizing his heart, eyes settling on the slowly undulating, robotic arms before landing on those familiar features of his face, and the … okay, maybe the features aren't exactly how he remembers, and the hair’s different, but whatever, they're minor details.
Something squeezes cold and angry and deeply afraid (the kind of afraid that forces the fight or flight response, makes him want to fight), a sudden burning in his chest when the memories surface again. Of being trapped in his own body but watching everything happen from someone else’s eyes, someone else making every choice for you, someone calling themselves you and doing things in your name, choosing who to save and who will die, like it’s just that easy; using your body; calling themselves superior — no.
No. No, no. Peter Parker, you are Peter Parker.
He sets his wrapper down and gets to his feet, pulling his mask back down over his chin, but he makes no move (yet) to step forward. ]
Doc, I’m only gonna say this once. I don't know how you're here, I don't know how you came back, but if you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna leave me the hell alone right now.
i'm so sorry for all of this (cw: trauma)
When he lifts his head, a whole flood of emotions goes through him, seizing his heart, eyes settling on the slowly undulating, robotic arms before landing on those familiar features of his face, and the … okay, maybe the features aren't exactly how he remembers, and the hair’s different, but whatever, they're minor details.
Something squeezes cold and angry and deeply afraid (the kind of afraid that forces the fight or flight response, makes him want to fight), a sudden burning in his chest when the memories surface again. Of being trapped in his own body but watching everything happen from someone else’s eyes, someone else making every choice for you, someone calling themselves you and doing things in your name, choosing who to save and who will die, like it’s just that easy; using your body; calling themselves superior — no.
No. No, no. Peter Parker, you are Peter Parker.
He sets his wrapper down and gets to his feet, pulling his mask back down over his chin, but he makes no move (yet) to step forward. ]
Doc, I’m only gonna say this once. I don't know how you're here, I don't know how you came back, but if you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna leave me the hell alone right now.