𝐝𝐞𝐣𝐚 𝐯𝐮, peter parker

xxiii. the vulture

chapter thirty-three!
the vulture

PETER FELT his hands shaking.

He forgot how to talk; like his throat had become nothing more than a parched desert. The Vulture━Liz's father━must've taken his sudden horror as nerves, for what boy wasn't nervous to meet his girlfriend's father? Peter was thankful for it, because soon, a smile returned to the Vulture's face, plastering upon his leathery skin to say, "You must be Peter."

He doesn't know I know, Peter's rationality told him. Keep it cool. But his chest screamed with pain, he felt his limbs and his skin light up━he could hear everything. He could hear the flies, the rustle of insects against the leaves of the garden, sirens from blocks away━was that a girl cheering all the way from Brooklyn? Peter's senses were alight, and he felt overwhelmed. His vision narrowed, his breath hitched, his heart pounded, like he was hit with some sensory overload that made him want to shout and jump.

He swallowed hard. "Y━yeah," he managed, the corsage container starting to crink and fold with his strength. Peter forced himself to stop and to hold back.

The Vulture looked him up and down, rather amused at his state. "I'm Liz's dad," he held out his hand, "put it there."

Peter's hand shot out without him telling to, grasping Liz's father's hand in a vice of a grip, not comprehending his strength at the moment. The Vulture's eyes widened in a moments surprise. Then, he grinned, impressed, "Hell of a grip!" He nodded inside, "Come on in!" not letting go of his hand, Peter was dragged into Liz's home. There was a moth that followed, wings feathering towards the bright light. Peter flinched when he heard the tap of the bug against the bulb as loud as a gunshot.

The Vulture let go to close the door, and Peter stood there, as pale as a ghost and as rigid as a board. He's never been so aware of someone standing beside him before━as if waiting for any movement that would mean danger.

He forced his feet to move down the hallway. The house looked different when it wasn't a party━still nice, still homely despite the large glass windows and expensive furniture, but Peter could barely pay any attention to the photos of Liz hugging her father, or the wedding pictures, or little baby Liz with her mouth covered in blue icing and chocolate cake.

Liz's father marched past him towards the kitchen. Peter followed carefully, even the touch of the wood under his feet making him want to jump and stick to the ceiling.

"Hi, Peter!"

Peter gasped, spinning around and holding up the corsage as if to throw. When he realised it was Liz's mom, he froze and slowly lowered his arm. Liz's mother chuckled at him, brushing past with a, "Well, you look very handsome," before walking up to her husband behind the kitchen counter.

To see him give her a side-hug as she neared was absurd. Peter could never imagine the man he had seen in that horrific bird suit be a real man, in a real home, with a wife and a kind, sweet daughter. He couldn't━and yet, here he stood.

"Did you get his name right?" whispered Liz's mother to her husband.

The Vulture frowned, "Freddy?" he guessed horribly on purpose.

"Peter!" Liz's mother laughed, giving him a nudge and shooting Peter a knowing smile to say, don't worry. She walked up to him, squeezing his shoulder, "I'm going to get Liz."

Peter watched her go, begging that she'd stay. But it wasn't long until he was left alone in the kitchen with the man who tried to kill him. He doesn't know━but what if he did? What if he found out? Peter felt bare and vulnerable, and without his suit. He was standing alone on a battlefield with no sword or armour.