#chapter 5 preview

on the same frequency !!

-.-. .... .- .--. - . .-. / .....

December 27, 1995

After clearing the snow from his 1982 Ford Escort, as well as a path in the driveway, Mike hops into the car with haste, not bothering to even fasten his seatbelt. He turns the key in the ignition and once the engine comes to life, he quickly puts it in reverse, backing out of the driveway onto Maple Street, and then he heads towards the center of town. And with a slight lead foot—driving five miles an hour over the speed limit and also rolling through at least two stop signs and running a red light—it takes him a total of six minutes to pull his car into a parking space of the library. Then Mike races up the shoveled salted walkway leading to the building, opens the door, and darts over to the front desk.

As he approaches the librarian, she smiles and greets him, “How can I help you?”

“Newspapers—” he says a bit breathless, heart beating fast in his chest from his short sprint, “—for research…”

“Do you have a library card?”

December 28, 1985

Mike shakes his head. “No… no, I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Hey—friends don’t lie, remember? I believe you—always,” he says. “Plus, kinda hard not to believe you when you’re right…”

🎶 a song from chapter five 🎶

rating: mature

tags: alternate universe, not canon compliant, major character death, grief/mourning, ptsd, blood and injury, supernatural elements, time shenanigans, butterfly effect, thriller, angst with a happy ending

release date: 11/26/2023

✨ previous chapter previews ✨

ch1 | ch2 | ch3 | ch4

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Behind? Catch up HERE 😊

Amazing moodboard created by @crownofstardustandbone @therollingstonys thank you so much! 💖

********

“Pictures of what?” Ned asked as he suddenly appeared behind Peter’s left shoulder. Peter jumped, almost knocking into Gwen as he grabbed her hand, tugging her around.

“Jesus, Ned!” Peter exclaimed. “Dude, you can’t sneak up on me like that!”

Ned’s eyebrows knitted together. “Um… I didn't, but okay. But what’re you taking pictures of?”

“Peter’s gonna get a telescope this coming weekend,” said Gwen.

“Really?” Ned said. “Dude, that’s so cool! Are you gonna let us come over and see it once you get it set up?”

“Ah, it’s gonna be up at the Compound,” said Peter. “Sorry.”

“Oh,” Ned said. “Well, I guess that makes more sense, since upstate’s probably better for stargazing. It just kinda sucks that you’ve gotta go up there every single weekend.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Peter said. “It’s actually kinda nice to get out of the city every now and then. It’s a lot quieter up there.”

“Yeah, I guess. But since when did you like it quiet?” Ned asked. “You know what, nevermind. Wait till you hear what my mom heard yesterday at her book club.”

“You mean her gossip club, right?” Gwen asked as they made their way towards their homeroom classroom. “‘Cause I swear all your mom seems to do there is talk about people.”

“Well… yeah, that is part of it,” Ned admitted. “You know my mom just likes to know what’s going on, so…” He gave his head a quick shake. “Anyway, she told me that one of her friends was walking in the city on Saturday afternoon and saw Dr Stephen Strange go into a comic book store.”

“Who?” asked Gwen, shooting Peter a questioning look. “Am I supposed to know who that is or something?”

“He’s that rich doctor that drove his car off a mountain a few months ago,” said Peter. “The neurosurgeon?” He didn't add that Dad had disliked Dr Strange ever since he and Papa had tried to get him to consult on Peter during his weeks-long coma after the battle in the Miami bunker, and that the surgeon had flat-out refused because he’d said that he didn't work on children.

And no amount of begging, pleading, or bribing could get him to change his mind.

Oh well, it’d probably been for the best anyway. From what Peter had heard about Dr Strange, he was a massive jerk, and Dad did not have a good track record dealing with medical professionals who were jerks. Dad was amazingly generous with most of the doctors and nurses who had treated Peter back when he was little, and sick most of the time, but Peter had witnessed him dressing down plenty of arrogant or jerky ones too. Since Dad had enough intelligence and knowledge to pretty much get his own medical degree in any number of fields, he tended to figure out who he could trust and who he could not very quickly.

As it turned out, Dr Strange wouldn’t have been able to do anything for Peter anyway, and not getting him involved ended up saving his dads from having to explain Peter’s genetic mutation and enhancements to yet another person outside their family.

Now that Ned had brought him up, though, Peter had to admit he was pretty curious as to what the former surgeon had been up to in the last several months.

“Oh, yeah, I remember my dad saying something about that,” Gwen said with a nod. “Okay… so…?”

“Well, I guess after his accident, he kinda went nuts trying to find a cure for the nerve damage in his hands. Ended up selling just about everything he owned to try some really weird treatments,” said Ned. “And then one day he just up and disappeared. My mom’s friend thought he was dead until she saw him again.”

teaser, anyone?

(screenshot reads:

Sylvanas stared at Jaina in awe.

A/N: Enjoy! This chap is requiring a bit more research from me, but I think it’s gonna turn out great. <3

...

It was still dark out. As dark behind her eyelids as it was to the naked eye. No candle lit, no light switch on, even the moon did not shine through the sheer drapes covering the wide, glass windows. In a deep, heavy, dreamless sleep, Iris never would have expected the middle-of-the-night proposition that came next.

“Iris?” came the whispered question, falling from the lips of her beloved.

She didn’t move, not really sure if the word had come from reality and not the spark of a dream.

“Iris,” it came again, this time with a gentle hand on her bare shoulder, nudging her out of her deep sleep.

She moaned a little in protest but refused to turn to face him. She snuggled deeper into her pillow instead.

“Iris.”

His lips came to rest beneath her ear and his fingers slipped beneath the straps of her nightie, and she felt a liquid pooling between her legs.

Oh, that is not fair.

“No,” she murmured stubbornly. “We just had sex a few hours ago, Barry.”

She felt him smile against her skin and knew he would be the death of her.

“I’m not waking you up for sex, Iris,” he whispered, pulling his fingers back and running them down her arm.

She squashed the slight disappointment.

“No? Could’ve fooled me.”

She pulled her arm almost out of reach so she could slide her hand beneath her pillow.

He chuckled lightly and covered his arm over hers, intertwining their fingers beneath her pillow. He moved so his whole body framed hers and one of his legs half-straddled hers.

She groaned, her entire body on fire now, even though he was only semi-aroused beneath his boxers.

“You sure you’re not waking me up for sex?”

“Well, I’m tempted to now, believe me,” he paused. “Even if it makes us late.”

His face was deep in her tresses, scattering goosebumps all over Iris’ bare skin, when his last words finally hit their target and Iris’ brows furrowed.

“Late?”

“Mhmm.”

She could hear him smelling her hair, and God if that wasn’t a huge turn-on for her.

“Late for what?”

Reluctantly – very reluctantly – Iris opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. She couldn’t see him very well in the dark, but the sensual and soft glint in his eyes made his identity unmistakable.

“Can you say…walking tour to an active volcano?”

Her eyes widened and she turned her body to face him entirely, pulling her arms into her body so she could soak up his warmth.

“I can say it, but do I want to?”

He smiled slyly.

“What have you got up your sleeve, Barry Allen?” She looked at him suspiciously. “And ti-” She glanced past him to the alarm clock on their bedside table. “It’s two in the morning!” She looked back at him, her mouth hanging open. “What are we doing up at two in the morning that we could possibly be late for? Don’t tell me-”

“Yep. Walking tour to Mount Batur. There are two actually. Well, there are more than two, but there were two I couldn’t choose between, so I signed us up for them both.”

“Oh, Barry.”

“Here, let me show you the brochures.”

“No, Barry, wait!”

But it was too late, and he was too excited. Barry sat up and yanked on the chain to turn on the bedside lamp, nearly blinding Iris if it hadn’t been for the gauzy drapes hanging around their canopy bed.

Barry was oblivious to her plight. He reached between the drapes to open up the drawer on the table and pulled out the two pamphlets. One read Bali Mount Batur Sunrise Trekking Tour and the other read Small-Group Batur Caldera Trekking and Natural Hot Spring Tour. The folded, glossy promotional pieces looked suspiciously home-made.

“Barry,” she warned.

“Okay, so I printed up info at home and created brochures for us. These include reviews and a list of bullet point details of all each tour entails. I think it’s much more thorough than anything we could’ve found in the hotel lobby.”

“Did you look in the hotel lobby?” she deadpanned.

He scoffed, which she couldn’t decide was a yes or a no.

“Okay, babe, I appreciate the thought you put into this. Really, I do. But…it’s two in the morning. We’ve barely gotten any sleep at all. Aren’t there like…any tours that start when it’s already light out?”

He frowned. “I couldn’t find any. Which I suppose makes sense. Don’t want to be hiking in extreme heat, right?”

She sighed and nodded. “Right.”

“Sooo?”

He put each brochure before her and then teasingly pulled them back in circular motions, a giddy smile on his face, as he pushed her to pick one. The thought clearly hadn’t occurred to him that she would flat out refuse the excursion, or even suggest they take it later in the week. She didn’t know how difficult it would be for them to cancel either, though she hoped he wouldn’t have signed them up for something that they couldn’t cancel last minute and still get their refund back. There was always the chance that he was so sure of her loving the idea that he had completely foregone the possibility of what to do in the event she didn’t want to do it.

Even now he couldn’t see that she was considering very hard the best way to let him down easy.

“They both include swimming in hot springs after reaching the peak,” he was saying as a way to encourage her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to turn him down. She would have to suck it up and go on this damn excursion, because her man had done his homework and he thought he was giving her the best surprise, and she didn’t think she could handle the look on his face, those sad puppy eyes if she made it clear she wasn’t going.

So, she summoned a brilliant smile and grabbed a brochure from out of his hands.

“All right, Barry Allen, let me see what you’ve gotten us into.”

His grin stretched further across his face.

“Read fast. The pick-up for both tours comes in half an hour.”

Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. By some miracle her jaw didn’t drop.

“Read! Read!” he said when she didn’t move for several seconds, trying to wrap her head around getting ready and trying to think clearly enough to make a well-thought out decision this early in the morning.

“How about you read while I get ready,” she said, tossing the blankets off her and climbing out of bed.

“Okay!” he said cheerfully, and she made sure not to make her rolling eyes evident as she began to search through her belongings.

Behind?  Catch up on FFN/ AO3 :) An eager knock on the glass door startled Tony from his thoughts, and he looked up to find Peter, bouncing up and down on his feet and sporting a cheeky grin.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark!” the boy exclaimed, rushing into the garage once JARVIS unlocked the door.  “Ms Toddie said that I can start on the tall balance beam next week!  She’s gonna bring one for me to try!”

“Really?” Tony said, his lips curling into a smirk.  “That's great!  Now you’ll make even more noise when you land.  And I wish you could time your jumps better with my music, because the beats never seem to line up correctly.  It really throws me off when I’m trying to work.”

Tony had meant the comment to be lighthearted, and so was alarmed when Peter’s face fell and his shoulders hunched forward.  “Hey!” he said, reaching to ruffle Peter’s sweaty curls.  “I only meant that I’m proud of you, kid, that's all.  I know how much fun you have jumping around upstairs everyday.”

“Ms Toddie says I’m good at it,” Peter mumbled.

“And Ms Tatiana is correct,” Tony stated firmly, gripping Peter’s shoulder.  “I was just giving you a hard time, kid.  I know you're good at it, and I know you love it.”

Peter drew his shoulders back, nodding at Tony as he tried to smile.  “I do love it.  I’m gonna miss it when we have to leave here.”

“Well, maybe we can find a gym for you to practice at after school?” Tony suggested.  “You can get your Lego-builder friend to join you too, if you want.”

“I don't think so,” Peter said, shaking his head.  “Ned can't do gymnastics like me.”

“Okay, we don't have to decide now,” said Tony.  With a final twist of his screwdriver, he removed the knee joint and placed it carefully onto its stand.  “Wanna try out your new boots for a few minutes?”

It was as if Tony had flipped a switch with the way Peter’s eyes widened and the smile stretched across his face.  “Can I?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Tony replied with a wink.  Lifting Peter onto the counter, he retrieved the mini Iron Man boots he’d just yesterday finished building from their locked storage cube and slid them onto the kid’s socked feet.  “So.  Whaddya think?”

“Whoa,” Peter breathed, clinking the toes of the bright red and gold boots together.  “They look just like yours!”

“They are just like mine,” Tony said proudly.  “Just a bit smaller.  And non-flyable, of course.”

“Aww, but I wanna fly too!” Peter whined as he jumped off the counter, dropping down in a perfect imitation of Tony’s signature Iron Man landing.  “Why can’t I fly?”

“You’re still a bit young for that, I think,” said Tony with a chuckle.  “Besides, I don't think Ms Wilson would be too happy if she thought I had you flying around the garage.”

“But I wouldn’t tell her!” exclaimed Peter.  “Just like I didn’t tell her that you let me stay up watching movies when I can't sleep!”

Tony grimaced.  He didn’t like being reminded that the poor kid had trouble sleeping from time to time.  “I know, Peter.  But watching Star Wars for the eightieth time because you had a nightmare at three in the morning and flying around a garage in homemade rocket boots are two pretty different things.  Don’t you think?”

“They’re repulsor boots.  Not rocket boots,” Peter corrected.  “Right?  You told me that you don't build rockets anymore.”

Grinning, Tony nodded.  “Yeah, that’s right.  But I highly doubt Ms Wilson would care too much about that particular distinction.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” Peter muttered.  He took a step, grinning as the boot made a loud clanking noise against the garage floor.  “They're still pretty cool boots though, Mr. Stark.  Thank you.”

“Tony,” Tony said suddenly, tapping his fingers on the counter.  He glanced sheepishly down at Peter.  “You can call me Tony, you know.  Mr. Stark was my father’s name; it’s not mine.”

The full chapter will post on Monday, July 23rd. :)