salt air & the rust on your door

⬩➤ AKOTSK

⬩➤ THE PITT

⬩➤ BUCKY BARNES

⬩➤ BOB REYNOLDS

"Miss you, May," Peter quietly murmurs as he lingers in front of May's grave for a moment longer.

As he stares at May's name, a memory pops into his head, one that he hasn't thought about for ages. It was one of Peter's birthdays when it was just him and May.

It was Peter's 15th birthday, and May had tried baking Peter a cake. It ended up being a slightly burnt, lumpy little thing, but Peter loved it. As Peter leaves the cemetery, the sound of May's voice singing Happy Birthday lingers in the back of his mind.

Peter is met with silence as he enters his dingy apartment. For some reason, the silence is more deafening than usual. A constant reminder that Peter is alone.

Alone, again on his birthday.

Peter sighs as he sits down in front of his computer and monitors. He starts going through his backlog and listens to a voicemail from DeWolff. He soon loses himself in the recent crime reports. E.V needs to say his name several times to get his attention.

"..Peter."

"Hmm?" he hums, continuing to stare at the computer screen, looking, but not really retaining anything.

"I said, happy birthday, Peter," E.V's cheerful voice floats around the room.

"Thanks, E.V." A small smile crosses his face. He guesses he's not technically always alone.

"Even though it's your birthday. I can't help but detect a drop in your serotonin and dopamine levels, which are still very low."

"...uh, thanks, E.V."

It's quiet for a moment. The highly intuitive AI is trying to find ways to boost Peter's mood.

"It's your birthday-"

"E.V, I know," Peter calmly replies, trying not to get annoyed at the only company he has.

"Why don't you go out?"

Peter frowns as he flops back against his chair and stares up at the ceiling.

"I went out."

"Peter," E.V lightly chastises. "That's not what I meant, and you know that."

Peter slowly spins his chair around. "I'm fine, E.V. I'll probably go out later and see what DeW-"

"You should do something fun," she cheerfully butts in.

"What?" he deadpans.

"I've found some fun night markets in Brooklyn, or you could go see a movie in the park."

A screen to Peter's left changes, showing some festival flyers that E.V. found on various social media sites.

"E.V..." While they do sound interesting, Peter has no interest in being around people.

A bit ironic.

"Or what about a puppy or cat cafe? Those have significant-"

"Whoa, whoa, stop. What are you trying to do?"

It's quiet for a moment.

"Peter, you shouldn't be alone on your birthday," the AI quietly replies.

"You haven't been pushy in the past about me being alone on my birthday," Peter mutters as he looks at the flyers on the computer screen.

"You seem sadder than usual."

Sometimes Peter regrets making E.V so blunt, or maybe that's the creation of his own subconscious.

"I'm fine," Peter lies, about to get back to work.

"How about I order you pizza? That seems to always give you a little serotonin boost."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. How about you throw a birthday cake as well?" Peter sarcastically drawls as he dives back into the crime footage.

He only says it to get E.V off his back.

"You got it, Peter!" E.V. chirps.

Peter doesn't remember falling asleep at his computer, but he's woken by a dinging noise followed by a knock. Groaning, he sits up, his hand going to his slightly stiff neck.

The knocking starts up again, and Peter quickly checks his door cam. He frowns, squints, and moves closer to the screen. He thinks you look familiar, but he can't be sure. He notices you holding something, and at first he mistakes you for pizza delivery. He vaguely remembers telling E.V to order him pizza.

Peter is about to ignore you and wait for you to leave it at the door, but you keep knocking.

"Really?" Peter mutters, getting up and throwing on the first shirt he sees on his bed.

You're on the other side of the door, starting to get impatient. You're about to knock again when the door flies open, and you take a step back, slightly startled.

This is the first time you've seen P. Parker up close, and you feel a little bad. It looks like you've woken him up.

"Thanks," he mumbles, reaching out and taking the two boxes in your hand. "You coulda just left it at the door. Oh-sorry, did E-I... uh, forget to tip?"

You stare at him for a moment as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"Oh... I'm your upstairs neighbor. The delivery person left this at my door, so..." you trail off as Peter finally focuses his attention on you.

"Um, thanks."

An awkward silence lingers between you and Peter. He wishes he were better at talking to people when he's not behind a mask.

"I-"

The awkward silence is getting to you, and your flight instinct kicks in. "Anyway, um... happy birthday, Parker," you rush out and are about to dash back to the stairs.

"Wh-what'd you just say?" His voice stops you. He sounds quite taken aback.

Slowly, you turn around. He still has that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on his face, mouth slightly open.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry, but the bakery decorated the outside of the box with cute birthday stickers."

He continues to gape at you. "Huh?"

You walk back over with a slight smile on your face. "The bakery," you reply, pointing to the pink box underneath the white pizza box.

Peter follows your gaze, and he almost forgot what he was holding. There it was: a pastel pink box with a familiar bakery logo. The bakery was literally around the corner. E.V, Peter thinks.

"I'm gonna go, you're probably having people-"

Peter doesn't know what possesses him to blurt out what he does next. "I'm-I'm Peter, Peter Parker." He holds out his free hand towards you.

You weren't expecting a sudden introduction, but you're not opposed. You're new to the city and are looking for new friendly faces. Your smile widens, and you tell him your name. "I'm pretty sure we moved in the same month, but it's good to finally put a name to a face," you finish as you drop his hand.

Another silence follows, but this time not so awkward.

"Anyway, I should probably..." you trail off, hooking a finger over your shoulder, indicating you're going back upstairs. "Happy birthday, again, Peter."

"You wanna come in?" he blurts out.

"Oh, I don't wanna intrude or anything-"

"You're not," he insists, kicking the door the rest of the way open.

You hesitate. "Don't you have friends or family coming over?"

Peter's face falls for a second, and you start to feel bad for accidentally bringing up what looks like a sensitive topic.

"Nope. Just me," he sighs.

A few minutes later, you're sitting on his couch, looking around the place. Peter feels his face getting warm as he anxiously searches the kitchen for plates or anything to put the pizza and cake on.

You're the first person who's been inside his apartment since he moved in, and he's starting to realize how much his place is lacking in common household items.

He heaves a sigh of relief when he spots some paper plates. He joins you on the couch. "If I knew I was gonna have company over, I would've tidied up," he jokes as he opens up the pizza box.

You take another look around the very bare living room. "I like it, very minimal, almost looks like no one lives here," you reply in a slight teasing tone.

Peter quietly laughs as he passes you a slice and then rubs the back of his neck. "Heh. Yeah, work takes up a lot of my time."

"No need to explain. Work life is brutal. Although my place is the complete opposite of yours. I literally moved to New York with two suitcases and somehow managed to clutter my apartment in a matter of months," you ramble before taking a bite.

Peter takes in every word as you tell him why you moved here, and he tries his best to answer your questions while also making up some fibs on the spot.

About an hour later, you find yourself lighting up the two candles on his cake.

"What kinda cake did you get?" you question as you sit back before moving the cake closer to Peter.

Peter flushes again, something he's been doing the moment you stepped foot into his apartment.

"Um, I told the bakery to surprise me," he easily lies.

He's about to lean forward to blow out his candles without a care when you stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait! We have to do this the proper way," you excitedly exclaim.

Peter watches as you get up, slightly confused. You rush over and turn off the singular lamp, drowning the room in semi-darkness. The only light comes from the flickering candles.

"Okay," you sigh, sitting back down. "Don't judge me. I had zero plans on singing happy birthday to my new neighbor and friend."

"You don't really need-"

"Peter, I said we're doing this the proper way," you firmly cut in, there's a slight semi-stern expression on your face. You take birthdays very seriously.

"Okay, okay," he laughs, sitting back and slightly motioning for you to continue.

Now it's you starting to get warm in the face. You're no Ariana Grande or Rihanna, but you're praying your high school choir days come through.

Peter sits up and watches fondly as you quietly start to sing "Happy Birthday" to him. The candlelight softly highlights your features. As you watch him, he can't help but think about May, Ned, and MJ, but especially May.

At least when he visits her tomorrow, he'll finally have something happy to tell her.

"Okay, stop staring, before I burst into flames." Your voice cuts into his inner thoughts.

"Can't the birthday boy soak in the ambiance?" he jokes.

You playfully narrow your eyes. "As long as you're not judging my singing skills.

"Never." Peter grins.

You and Peter end up using chopsticks to cut into his birthday cake.

The night ends with Peter walking you back to your apartment. You insist he doesn't have to since you literally live right above him, but he brushes it off, saying it's the neighborly thing to do.

"Well, this is me," you murmur as you and Peter stop at your door. "I guess I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, definitely," he replies.

Peter is about to head back down the stairs when your voice stops him.

"Happy 22nd birthday, Peter."

As Peter heads back to his bedroom, he doesn't realize he's still smiling as your parting words play in his head.

"I see your serotonin levels are higher than usual," E.V voices.

Peter rolls his eyes before stripping off his shirt and sweatpants. Crime doesn't stop just because it's his birthday.

"You're welcome," E.V sassily adds as Peter tugs at his suit.

"Yeah, yeah, just get DeWolff on the phone," Peter gripes back, but the smile still hasn't dropped from his face.