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tcm--holland · 6 years

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sellout // peter parker

summary: you’re a journalist with a passion for superheroes. what sets you apart from the other nosy writers in nyc is that one of them has been under your nose the entire time, and you didn’t even notice. but when given an opportunity to rise to the top in the world of turbulent journalism, will you let it go or become a sellout?

word count: about 5.3k

a/n: been a while, but here i am if anyone still wants me. thank you for (almost) 1k, i seriously thought i’d never get this far when i started this acc last year. as always, babes, enjoy <333

masterlist

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The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as people know him, is our latest rising superhero. But as we all know, fame comes hand in hand with controversy. A lot of people question his motivation, competence, abilities...even his morals. “Is he even a superhero?” Many ask after his recent oil spill incident. In short, yes.

You finish typing your sentence, shut your laptop, and hurriedly slide it into your backpack. You peek through the blinds in your dirty window, looking out into the already bustling city. The streets are flooded and lines for coffee shops are starting to go out the door. Amongst the crowd, you spot a familiar brunet boy that was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.

Grabbing two apples and a water bottle, you dash out the door and down the stairwell, trying not to drop anything. As soon as you’re outside, a scent native only to New York hits your nose: freshly baked bagels, dark roasted coffee, and a hint of stale urine. It kind of makes you wish that you had the time to sit down and have some real breakfast, but who are you kidding? You’re a student, a busy one at that. There’s no such thing as free time.

You weave through the bunches of businesspeople, students, and other people with places to be to get to the boy. “Peter!” You call to get his attention, barely audible over the noise of the street. He turns away from you first, looking in the opposite direction and then slowly making a 360 degree turn until he spots you. You shake your head in disbelief and toss him an apple. He catches it without hesitation. His reflexes never fail to amaze you, but this doesn’t distract you from being annoyed at him. “About time you showed up.”

“Aw, sorry, Y/N.” It’s only now that you’ve noticed him trying to hide something in the water bottle pouch of his backpack. He stands awkwardly, half turned away like he’s cheating out on a stage, but then he reaches back to grab whatever he’s been hiding. He pulls out a cup of coffee, and when you peep inside you see a thick layer of foam on top. Just the way you like it. “I thought I’d grab you some coffee. Uh, I wasn’t sure if it was two or three sugars, so I put in two and I brought an extra packet...” The joyous yet hesitant smile on his face as he hands it to you is contagious, and suddenly you’ve cracked a grin too. You can never find it in you to stay angry with Peter.

He fishes into his pocket, pulling out a set of tangled earphones with the sugar packet inside the tangle. You shake your head. “Two’s great.”

“You’re the best, you know that? Thank you.” You take a sip and wince as you nearly burn your tongue off. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him looking at you. He glances away as soon as you notice. “But now we’re definitely going to be late. Let’s go.” You walk side by side, him munching on the crisp apple and you carefully sipping the java. Within a minute, he’s finished with his apple. He opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t need to. You already know. You hand him your apple without a word. As per usual, he vehemently refuses to take it until you’ve said that you don’t want it a million times.

“Why didn’t you get yourself some coffee? You look like you need it more than I do,” you comment. His skin is pale as a vampire’s, like he hasn’t seen proper sunlight in days. And he’s still wearing yesterday’s Star Wars t-shirt, which he was also wearing the day before yesterday.

“Nah. Coffee just makes me jumpy. And I’m hyper enough without it, don’tcha think?” He cracks a smile.

“I guess you are.” You smile back, remembering something that you wanted to tell him. “Hey, remember how I applied for that job at The Daily Globe, and I said I totally wasn’t gonna get it?” The look on your face gives it away.

“You got it?” Peter throws an arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you! What are you gonna write about?”

You grin up at him before taking another sip of the coffee. His constant enthusiasm for your writing will never stop motivating you. “They want me to cover Spider-Man. Crazy cool, right?”

He blinks, and for a brief moment his eyes are wide with panic. “Y-You’re writing about...Spider-Man? That’s, uh...That’s really cool! You’re gonna do great.”

“You think so? I started writing my first article this morning. I was thinking about finding out who that mystery man is. I could start an investigative series of -”

Peter cuts you off before you can say more, taking his arm off of your shoulder. “No, don’t do that!” You stop and look at him, brow furrowed in confusion, as he fumbles for words. “U-Uh, I mean, maybe you shouldn’t reveal his identity to the world. You know, maybe he wants his private life to stay, er, private.”

“Yeah?” You say, unimpressed. “I don’t remember you caring this much about Daredevil’s private life when we were digging into him.”

“Okay but - that was before I knew him.” He paused, realizing he’d just let a secret slip. “I mean, obviously I don’t know know him. You get what I’m saying.”

You look at him and sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It might be a bad idea to build up that kind of suspense and not be able to release an actual reveal if Spider-Man turns out to be someone like Daredevil. You know, I’m still pissed that I couldn’t tell everyone who Daredevil is after all that research.”

He cracks a smile. “What, you mean being sued by a lawyer isn’t on the bucket list?”

You smile, forgetting all about wanting to find out who Spider-Man is as you let your imagination run free. “During the day, he’d sue me. But at night, he’d find and murder me. And then, he’d stare - I mean, he can’t see, but you get the point - he’d stare at my dead body and be like, ‘Bullseye’ before leaping away to beat up some criminals.” You do your best impression of Murdock’s cool, dark demeanor. Peter starts cracking up, shaking his head.

“No no no - it’s like, ‘Bullseye’.” He does his own impression, which sounds so smooth and serious that you have to do a double take to make sure you’re looking at Peter Parker and not Matt Murdock himself. He grins at your reaction, stopping to take a bow with a flourish of his hand.

You shake your head at his over-exaggeration. You lean in close to whisper into his ear, trying not to giggle. “Hey, Pete, you can tell me if you’re secretly friends with the guy.” A blush starts creeping up his neck. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re whispering in his ear or if it’s something else.

“Uh, totally. Nothing weird about a teenager and a thirty year old lawyer dude hanging out, right?”

You scrunch up your face and shove him playfully. “Ew, well, when you put it like that…” The tall brick school building comes into view, right beside the delicately maintained football field. You slide your phone out of your pocket to glance at the time. “We’re, like, ten minutes late,” you say, starting to walk a little faster.

As two of you cross onto the campus, he gives you a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he apologizes again.

“Hey, it’s nothing. The coffee was worth it,” you wink, and his lips curve upwards. You finish up what’s left in your cup and try to make it into the nearest trash can. Unsurprisingly, it lands several feet away. Still, you exclaim, “Kobe!”

“Join the basketball team already!” He teases as you make the walk of shame to throw your cup away properly.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, but the body betrays the mind and a grin slips through.

It’s finally time to part ways, which is your least favorite part of each and every morning. You lean in to give him a hug. Even though it’s clearly been a while since he’s washed up, he’s still got a unique musk that you haven’t gotten around to figuring out yet. He’s so warm and easy to hold onto. Do you have to let go?

You linger a few more moments in his strong, defined arms as he rubs little circles on your back. You’re sure he’s doing it absentmindedly, yet it’s your favorite part of hugging him. With his Stark internship, your writing, and school, moments like this have recently been defining your friendship with him.

He sighs, resting his head on your shoulder. “I’m so tired, Y/N.” Every time he breathes, it tickles your neck a little.

“What’s keeping you up?” You ask quietly, brushing the hair off of his forehead. He sighs again, and this time you really feel it tickle your neck. You want to squirm and laugh a little, but you keep it in so he can tell you what’s on his mind.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just, uh...school.” Upon hearing this, you immediately pick up on the fact that he’s stressed about something he doesn’t want to tell you. If either of you had the time, you’d unpack it all and make him feel better. “Speaking of school, we should probably...do that.” He lifts his head off of your shoulder. His hair’s all over the place now, but he doesn’t seem to care. Peter gives you a soft smile.

You pull away from the hug. You’ve seen him smile a million times, but something about this one makes you feel different. You’ve never noticed how his dark, coffee colored eyes crinkle so genuinely when he smiles, or how brightly they shine when they look at you. He’s staring at you back, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Why do you suddenly feel like kissing him? Peter, the boy who has read everything you’ve ever written and still begs for more. The boy you bumped into when you’d just moved to the city and you didn’t know anyone else. The one who walked to school with you every single day so you wouldn’t have to face a new school alone, and never fell out of the habit. The same one you cried about when he confided in you about his crush on Liz Toomes.

You swallow. Why is your mind playing cruel tricks on you when you know the truth? You force yourself to snap out of it, stepping away from Peter. “I-I’ll see you later, Peter,” you say quickly, all traces of a smile gone as you turn around to leave.

“Uh, cool. See you, Y/N!” you hear him reply. You walk faster, heading into class and taking a seat. Your classmates stare at you judgmentally, silently wondering why you’re so late. You keep your head down.

“Thanks for the hello,” your friend and designated partner in class, Mia, mutters as you reach into your backpack to grab your notebook. She’s been around almost as long as Peter.

“Sorry,” you mumble back, not offering an explanation. You keep your eyes glued to your notebook so she can’t see the expression on your face. She has a weird way of figuring out everything on your mind, whether you want her to know or not.

“Something happen?”

You glance up at her. She’s forgotten about writing in her notebook and has started twirling one of her cornrow braids around her finger. She watches you the whole time. Finally, she says, “‘Cause, like, I’m not saying that you’re late because you were busy being all over each other in the hallways, but if you were…”

Your eyes widen, and you glance over both shoulders to make sure no one’s listening. “Wh - no! It’s not like that, I already told you. I’m late because I got coffee, okay?”

Mia raises a carefully plucked eyebrow. “Y/N, can you answer me honestly for once when I ask if you like that boy or not?”

You sigh. “Sure, I like him, but -”

“Then what are you waiting for, girl? Go get him!”

“No!” This draws the attention of the teacher, who glances over. You pretend to work until he looks away, and then you turn back towards her. “No, Mia. He likes Liz.”

“He likes -” She starts, but she quickly cuts herself off and stops playing with her hair. “Oh.” You half hope that she’ll say something reassuring, even if it’s not true. But Mia’s no liar - she’ll give it to you straight. You look away, feeling worse. You focus on the clock at the front of the classroom instead, counting down the minutes until class ends.

Eventually, class ends, but your inner anguish doesn’t. Hours turn into days and nights, which turn into weeks. You do your best to keep up with Peter, but the universe works against you. You call him at the only time you can - right after school - but he never picks up. And every time he calls you back, it’s when you’re in the middle of writing something important. Eventually, walking to school together becomes less of a peaceful sanctuary and more of a necessary chore. Most of the time is spent walking side by side on your phones.

You don’t how you got to a point where you hardly say hello to each other anymore, but it happened so quickly that it hasn’t set in for either of you yet. Part of you thinks that maybe that’s just how it’s supposed to be, that you’re meant to be a forgotten relic from Peter Parker’s past. What a tragic, cruel fate. Thinking about Peter makes your stomach churn with discomfort, so you focus all of your energy on writing.

Ladies and gentlemen, The Daily Bugle has officially become the Fox News of writing about Spider-Man. In their latest article, they chose to slander me by calling me a “nasty teen who doesn’t know the difference between journalism and writing for a tabloid”. That’s how you know you’ve won a battle, folks.

Reports say that Spider-Man’s slipping a little. He let a few purse snatchers get away this week. Some worry, or rejoice, depending on who you are, that this is the end of the line for him. Don’t give up hope so quickly, I say to that. It’s all in the making of someone great. But I can’t help but wonder...what’s on Spider-Man’s mind? More importantly, can he find it in himself to deal with it and move on?

You start doing well. Suddenly, everyone’s talking to you about your latest articles. Teachers, friends, and your family alike begin to regard you as a local hero, in your own unique way. Despite this positive attention, something doesn’t feel right.

One day, something you’d been fearing for a while finally comes true. Peter stops showing up outside of your apartment. You stand outside that grey morning, staring into the sea of faces and hoping that one of them might be his. You wait ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes, looking a bit like a lost puppy to people that happen to glance at you.

It’s only after almost forty-five minutes of internal panic and worry that you think to text him. Maybe he’s sick and he forgot to tell you. It’s probably nothing and you’re overreacting for no reason.

(8:32 AM) You: school started 20 min ago...where are you?

You stare at your phone, spacing out for a few minutes until you hear a ping.

(8:36 AM) Peter: oh crap!!! y/n i’m so sorry, i totally forgot to tell you

(8:36 AM) You: ???

(8:37 AM) Peter: i’m in d.c. rn for a decathlon tournament! kinda last min but yeah! sorry for not letting you know, you gonna be late?

(8:37 AM) You: thought you stopped doing decathlon

(8:38 AM) Peter: i got back into it :)

(8:41 AM) You: oh

He sends you something after that, but you don’t bother reading it. The entire walk to school, you feel like you’re in a daze. You don’t understand why you can’t just let it go and move on with your life. Your writing is taking off. Some D-list magazine once titled you ‘Teen Journalist of the Year’, after all. You’ve dreamed of going big your whole life, but now that it’s starting to happen, you’re more unhappy than you’ve ever been.

As you walk, you hear your phone begin to play your marimba ringtone. Who’s calling you at this time? You ignore the pile up of texts from Peter to answer the call. The caller ID says...your boss? You put the phone to your ear. “Mr. Bushkin, I -” You start.

“Y/N, listen. You’re exactly what this paper has needed for a long time - a young, fresh face who hands it to the audience unfiltered.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Bushkin -”

“K.J. Clayton herself praises you!” K.J. Clayton, owner of The Daily Globe? You want to express your excitement, but as usual, there’s no time to react with the overbearing Barney Bushkin. “And hey, you’re gettin’ fan mail, kid! Pick it up from the office when you can, okay? But I called to ask you about something. You’re doing great, but you know what turns kids like you into celebrities? The big break.”

“And I think your big break could be in finding out who that Spider-Man is. So think about it if you wanna, and get back to me on…” Bushkin’s words fade away for a moment.

“Maybe he wants his private life to stay private.” That’s what Peter said as he convinced you to let Spider-Man live in peace. But that doesn’t matter anymore. Maybe it’s time you do something for yourself. Bushkin’s right - finding out who the masked spider is would launch your career. You’re sure you can do it - without Peter’s help.

“Mr. Bushkin.” For once, you interrupt your boss. He doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Hm?”

“I’ll do it, sir. I’ll find out who Spider-Man is.”

---

By the time you get to school, there are hardly more than ten minutes left in first period. Mia tries to talk to you when you sit down, but you can’t bring yourself to tune into the world right now. You’re too excited about your own future.

You go through your classes, juggling between feeling annoyed about your Peter ordeal and feeling excited about your new assignment. If anything, the jumble of emotions make you even more determined.

At lunch, you open your phone up to see that it’s blowing up with messages from friends, schoolmates...even strangers. It doesn’t take much more than a quick Google search to find out that something’s going on in D.C. Immediately, you start watching the first live broadcast that comes up. It’s Spider-Man on top of… “The Washington monument?” You whisper.

You sit there in shock, watching him save a bunch of kids from inside the monument, no thanks to the police. You squint to try and get a better look at the kids. They’re not kids, they’re teenagers! And their jackets look awfully familiar…

“The decathlon team.” You have to pinch yourself to make sure that you’re not living a reality. Your heart’s beating so fast and you can barely breathe, like you just ran a few miles at top speed. You glance at Mia, who’s been watching you across your table of friends with a confused stare as you talk to yourself. “I - I have to go,” you announce, standing up suddenly and tossing everything into your backpack before beginning to walk quickly. Mia is right by your side as you approach the office.

“Y/N, what are you -”

“Spider-Man just saved our decathlon team from a falling elevator at the Washington Monument in D.C.” You do your best to explain as quickly as possible. “I need to write about this.” You don’t stop to think about why you want to write all of a sudden. You don’t wonder if you’re in a rush because you simply want to get the latest news down or if you want to drown your complicated emotions away with words.

She blocks your path. “I need you to slow down and breathe before you give yourself a panic attack. What you need to do is stay here, at school. You can write the article when you go home.”

“No, don’t you get it, girl? I need to do this. The sooner I do that, the sooner I can start piecing together who Spider-Man is.”

“Have you gone crazy?” Mia yells, and suddenly you shut up and stare at her, throat tight. You’ve never seen her like this. “You’re so focused on getting your stupid ass story that you haven’t even stopped to think about if everyone on the decathlon team - the people you go to school with - got hurt or anything. Since when did you start giving up your integrity for journalism?”

“Since I learned how to do it right,” you shoot back angrily. You’ve left your best friend at a loss for words, but there’s no turning back now. You consider marching into the office and telling them you need to go, but they’d probably force you to go back to class. You hear the bell signalling the end of lunch. It’s now or never. You can’t bring yourself to look back at Mia as you make your escape off of campus to go home.

In just a matter of months, Spider-Man has gone from a local name to being known across the country. As many of you may already know by now, Spider-Man was out in D.C. this weekend doing God’s work at the Washington Monument. Of course, the police don’t appreciate his stunts, but the police also had no chance at saving those teenagers before Spider-Man did. The kids themselves are New York natives - in fact, they attend the Midtown School of Science and Technology as my fellow schoolmates. Spidey’s back on track!

Over the next few weeks, writing consumes most of your time. There’s not much else to do when you don’t have any friends. So you sit at home detailing every step that Spider-Man takes, trying to figure out who he could possibly be. It could be anyone - millions of people live in the city, after all. While you try to find out his identity, you have to keep up with current events too. So you push yourself harder to stay up to date on what Spider-Man does.

You skip parties that you occasionally get invited to. You even skip homecoming this year. Who would you go with, anyway?

A rare sight: Spider-Man back in his Underoos to fight the Vulture. You usually see superheroes dress up for the big boss battle...but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he keeps us guessing. He locked up the Vulture - hopefully for good. But our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man chose not to take his life. He’s no Daredevil, though I hear speculation that they may know each other. All things considered, we know Spidey’s in league with billionaire Tony Stark. Does this mean we’ll see Spider-Man among the Avengers soon?

This is so much harder alone. That’s the only thought running through your head as you rub your temples. You’re not even close to finding out Spider-Man’s real identity, never mind writing an article on it. Suddenly, you hear your ringtone go off. At this point, no one else really calls you, so you know who’s at the other end of the line.

“Hi, Mr. Bushkin,” you greet quietly.

“Y/N! How’s that Spider-Man reveal goin’?” Oh, you’ve been dreading this call.

You can’t bring yourself to lie, though. “It’s not goin’.”

“Hey, don’t become discouraged. I can always hand off the job to -”

“No, sir,” you cut in, nervous. “I can, uh, I can do it, I swear. I just need a little more time.”

“There’s that fire! Now go find out who he is. I believe in you.” The phone clicks as he hangs up. Something about his words feel empty to you. Does Mr. Bushkin really believe in you? His I believe you doesn’t sound like Peter’s I believe in you.

Peter. Mia. You miss them both more than you care to admit. A shaky sigh escapes your lips when you think about the longing that’s been pulling at your heart strings for the last few weeks. You’re so burned out. You’ve given up every shred of your sanity for this.

You close your laptop and pull out your phone, opening up your conversation with Peter to read the messages you haven’t bothered to check since he went to D.C.

(8:42 AM) Peter: hey are you doing okay?

(8:45 AM) Peter: i’m just asking cuz your texts are like short and stuff

(8:45 AM) Peter: i mean that’s not a bad thing like i’m not saying you have to write like paragraphs or anything

(8:46 AM) Peter: idek what i’m saying anymore help lol

(10:24 AM) Peter: y/n? are you mad at me?

(11:11 AM) Peter: ok i’ll leave you alone if you don’t feel like talking rn

He didn’t say anything for a few days. And then:

(7:14 PM) Peter: may wanted to invite you to dinner tonight if you can make it? she knows how much you like her stir fry :)

(9:48 PM) Peter: we’ll just save you some in case you wanna pick it up in the morning then

A few more days.

(3:39 PM) Peter: ned, mj and i are binging star wars! you should come and meet mj btw, you’d love her

A few more.

(4:23 PM) Peter: coffee? ik you’re super busy and i’m about to get super busy too but imy! let’s catch up <3

Before you can stop yourself, you’re choked up. You can’t help it. As hot tears spill out of your eyes and onto your cheeks, you wonder how you became such a jerk. When did writing stop making you happy and start making you turn on everyone good in your life? A sob escapes your lips. Angry with yourself, you pick up the photographs and newspaper clippings strewn across your bed and throw them at the wall as hard as you can. You hate it all.

You hate yourself for carrying so much anxiety with you, for being so unappreciative of everyone in your life, for being so egotistical and cocky as soon as you found a throne to climb onto. You hate yourself for ignoring Peter without a decent reason and for not trusting Mia enough to know what’s best for you sometimes. You hate yourself for being so flawed, but you can’t figure out how to fix it.

You stand up, brushing your tears away. Spider-Man can wait. Your friends need you. Or, at the very least, you need your friends.

You slide on a pair of sneakers and glance in the mirror. You look the same way Peter did weeks ago - sunlight deficient and exhausted. You make your way down the street two blocks, regretting forgetting a jacket. The bitter cold wind leaves goosebumps on your arms and chills you to the bone. Finally, you make it upstairs, knocking on the all-too-familiar door to the apartment.

May Parker opens the door, clearly surprised when she sees you. “Y/N?” Your heart breaks all over again as soon as she says your name, and suddenly you feel like crying again. “Hey, sweetheart,” she says gently, pulling you into a hug. You pull yourself together, blinking away your tears as you hug her back. When you finally let go, she urges you to come in and have a seat at their dinner table.

“You want anything? A drink or something to eat, maybe?” She offers kindly. When you shake your head no, May takes a seat in front of you. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’ve been terrible to Peter,” you blurt out. “I just - I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but ever since I got my job, I’ve been - I have…” You take a moment to figure out what you want to say, May’s patient gaze never straying from you. “I just wanted to catch up.” You try to smile, but it’s more of a grimace.

She nods in understanding, and she thinks for a few seconds. “You know what? Let’s talk about it. Peter’s in the shower right now, so you can wait in his room if you want. And then you can come out together and we can all talk. That sound okay to you?” You nod, trying to take a few deep breaths and sort yourself out. Finally, you stand up to head into Peter’s room. “And Y/N,” she says. You glance up at her. “Peter’s been dealing with some stuff too. He was, um...sneaking out.” You raise your eyebrows at this. Peter, sneaking out? She sees your reaction and nods. “I know. But he lost his Stark internship a while ago, and that’s how he dealt with it. I know how important these things are to you guys. They get so important that you do dumb things sometimes.”

You hold May’s gaze, wondering if you’ll ever be as wise as her. You smile slowly and nod. “Thanks, May. Can I, um, have another hug?”

May laughs and walks back over to you. “Of course, Y/N.” She wraps her arms around you for a second hug, doing the same back rubbing that Peter does when he hugs. When you finally let go, you feel a lot better. You give her one last smile before heading into Peter’s room.

You start thinking about Spider-Man again. All the research you’ve done on him wasn’t for nothing. You’ve narrowed it down a little. Based on how amateur he is, both in action and in conversations, you can easily rule out Spider-Man being an adult. Or at least, if he is an adult, he’s fairly new at being one.

You blink, remembering why you’re here. You take a seat on his bed and look around. He’s got photographs of you and Ned strung up on his wall. It looks like he’s in the process of stringing up pictures of someone else, too. His decathlon jacket is sprawled on the back of his chair. Next to that is his backpack, with all of his school things still inside. Ugh, your pet peeve is backpacks that are open when they don’t need to be. Very specific, you know, but it’s so annoying to you.

You stand up, going to zip up the bag when you see something in the corner of your eye under Peter’s bed. Itt’s red and blue, and at this point, you’ve seen it so many times that you recognize it instantly as Spider-Man’s Underoos. What the hell? Your heart races in anticipation. Maybe it’s just a replica, or a cosplay outfit. You drop to your knees to reach towards the suit. As soon as you touch it, you realize that this is too perfect to be cosplay. You pull it out and hold it in the light, a million things racing through your head as you stare in disbelief.

“Y-You’re writing about...Spider-Man?”

“I mean, maybe you shouldn’t reveal his identity to the world. Maybe he wants his private life to stay private.”

“Okay but - that was before I knew him.”

The door clicks open. On Peter’s end, he sees you sitting on his bed with his Spider-Man suit clutched in hand. On your end, you’re glancing back and forth between the half-naked Peter and the suit. You don’t know if you’re supposed to be shocked or panicked.

Almost at the same time, you and Peter say, “What the fu -”

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