CHAPTER 19
DEAD BY MORNING

SLOANE WAS DETERMINED to catch her step-brother in the act.

After seeing him meet up with a group of hooded figures in the street, she had made it her mission to follow his every move. She was finally trusting her gut, allowing it to lead her in the right direction – hopefully. Sloane naturally woke up early, so she followed his walk to school. If she caught him at the right time, she followed his walk home, but sometimes he stayed later for tutoring. (He was the tutor. Imagine that?) She watched his movements at the skate park, and when they were both home, she stuck to him like glue. She always made sure to stay up to see when he'd run down the fire escape. It varied the past few nights. Sometimes it was at eleven PM; the latest was at three AM.

She hadn't yet followed him on one of his late-night outings. Perhaps, she was a little scared. And Sloane knew this would be a good time to call for Spider-Man's assistance, but her embarrassment weighed more than her fear. She could do this on her own. Maybe if she kept saying that to herself, it would make this all way less terrifying.

Tonight had to be the night. Sloane had mapped out her plan and attire, as if she wasn't simply following her step-brother like she had been for the last couple of days. Before going to bed, she popped into Everett's room and wished him goodnight. He was watching one of the Seinfeld episodes she'd shown him, and she couldn't help but smile. After retreating to her room, Sloane quickly pulled on a black hoodie, a matching pair of leggings, and her leather jacket. She then tugged on her sneakers and shut all the lights off in her room. Not only fifteen minutes later, a shadow dashed down her fire escape.

Sloane approached the window immediately, sliding open the door and looking over the railing of the fire escape. That was a long way down. She gulped nervously. Maybe she needed to go back for some liquid courage?

No, if she did that, she'd be too drunk to find him. But there was no way she had the ball to run down this old staircase like Everett did. Instead, Sloane quickly shut her window and took the elevator down.

He obviously had a head start on her, but somehow, Everett was almost as slow as the elevator. Rounding the building towards the back, Sloane found the silhouette of her step-brother jumping down from the fire escape and sprinting across the street. Shit, she thought, now he's fast? She took after him, hoping for the best.

Everett slowed down the slightest bit once they made it half a block down the street. Sloane was grateful for it. She was pretty out of shape and managed to get tired any time her muscles were put to use. Hiding behind a telephone pole, she bent down and huffed out a few breaths. She stood up and looked back.

"Fuck," she muttered. Where did he go?

Back to running it was. Her legs burned like she'd been out in the sun for too long, but Sloane carried on sprinting down the street, bumming a right on the sharp corner. She found Everett's figure up ahead. A breath of relief slipped past her lips and into the silent air. Her step-brother turned. Sloane quickly hid in an alley to her right. She counted her heartbeats up to ten, breathed out, and looked past her cover of the brick building. Everett was back to walking, and so was she.

As they were starting to near the skate park, he picked up his pace. Sloane inwardly groaned and pulled up her hood, attempting to stay back far enough. All this work made her wonder if this was worth it and what she expected to find. Truthfully, she couldn't answer either of those questions. She was just as in the dark as anyone else.

Please don't let me end up in a ditch tonight, she prayed in her head, over and over and over again.

The skate park was across the street, and just when Sloane thought she could predict his course, Everett dashed forward and veered to the right, where a group was hidden in a nearby alleyway. She was caught off guard, not knowing whether to run and risk him knowing she followed him, or stay behind. She decided a moment too late, and before she could finish crossing the street, Everett tugged on his friends' hands and disappeared into the dark.

"No," she whispered angrily to herself, stopping short on the sidewalk. "No, no, no." Her hands fisted in her hair.

Bending down and placing her hands on her knees, Sloane took a few more deep inhales. She shook her head. How could she have failed so miserably at such a simple plan? Maybe it really was time to call Bobby and book her bus ticket home. Wiping the end of her runny nose, Sloane straightened and viewed up.

The streetlight above her flickered. In fact, all of them near the skate park were, except for a few by the half-pipe that were fully out. Sloane scanned the area and reached for the phone in her pocket. She gripped it tightly. In her other pocket should be her old pocket knife. She kept it with her at all times. Not only was it good for self-defense in her line of work, but it held a lot of sentimental value. It was one of the few things that was passed down to her from her dad.

Sloane swung her head around, debating if it was time to go back. That was when she saw him.

At least, she was pretty sure it was a he. Amongst the trees near the far back of the skate park, Sloane could just make out a manly figure hidden in the darkness. The man wasn't that tall, but he had long legs and wore a hoodie that masked his entire torso. The shade hid every inch of his face. She could only see his silhouette. Squinting in the figure's direction, she called out, "Everett? Is that you?"

The figure didn't respond. It continued staring in her direction, intent on not moving. Sloane's grip got sweaty. She sighed, and then shouted, "Listen, I didn't mean to follow you –"

He began running towards her.

Sloane shrieked, taking off down the street. The air was so quiet that she could hear his footsteps behind her. She pushed herself, panting heavily through her mouth as she sped down the dimly lit road. Her legs felt like jelly and she wanted to collapse on the ground, but then she looked over her shoulder. She saw him behind her, gaining traction. And she ran faster than ever before.

Sticking her left hand in her pocket, she felt around for her knife. The pouch was completely empty, except for a few lint balls in the corners. She must've left it in her parka. Her hands got more sweaty. She had no weapon for protection. Besides her phone, she was defenseless. Her fingers were suddenly too slippery to grip her phone, and she was scared it would fall out of her hands if she chanced it. Anxiety spiked within her, unable to quell.

Sloane looked back again. He was gaining on her, and she was pretty sure she saw a weapon in his hand. Was that a sledgehammer? There was only one person who would be carrying such a thing at this hour, chasing after a young woman.

She couldn't even say his name. Sloane turned back, dodged a light pole, and pushed herself faster, despite her ragged breathing. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead, she thought to herself. He's gonna knock you out. He's gonna break your jaw and maybe steal some of your teeth and you're gonna be dead by morning. You probably won't be found for weeks and you'll never win your Seldon award –

His steps got louder. The sound was pounding in her ear, heavier than her own heartbeat. Sloane viewed over her shoulder and noticed he was ten feet from her. She screamed and grabbed her phone with her sweaty hand. It was practically slipping out of her grip, but she had to try. Just as she had it up to her ear, another voice emerged above her.

"HEADS UP!"

Sloane gasped as another figure came barreling towards her from the sky. She ducked, and Spider-Man swung down with his legs out. His webbing fell, causing him to soar through the air, and with his feet out, he kicked the hooded figure back several feet. Sloane glanced up just as the man dove onto the pavement, landing at least one hundred feet backward.

Slowly getting to her feet, Sloane was surprised when Spider-Man ran over to her instead of the figure. He grabbed her by the waist, and with his other gloved hand, he ran his hands over her cold cheek. "Are you okay?" He asked, voice muffled.

"I'm fine. He didn't touch me," she said, taking down her hood and pushing strands behind her ears. Looking forward, she pointed in the man's direction. "You do know he's running away, right?"

"What?" Spider-Man's head whipped forward, and he began sprinting when he realized the dark figure had already taken off. Despite the hard fall, he didn't seem to sustain any injuries. He was basically a blurry shadow now, headed towards the other end of the street and into the night. Spider-Man reached out and tried to cast his webs to bring him back, but it was no use. The figure was long gone.

"Fuck," Spider-Man muttered under his breath, slowly turning to meet Sloane's wide eyes.

Her body was frozen in place. "Uh ..." She lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers. "Hi."

Stalking towards her, he latched an arm around her waist. "We gotta get out of here."

"By swinging away?" She feigned a laugh. "Actually, I think I'd rather wa – AH!"

They were gliding in the air before she could even finish her sentence. Spider-Man's webbing hooked onto a window of a ten-story building, and with his arm around her, they were soaring through the dark and damp streets of Queens. Sloane had to close her eyes again to stop screaming, but she made sure her arms were firmly locked around his neck, holding on for dear life. Thankfully, he almost didn't kill them like last time, or maybe Sloane didn't realize the rise and fall with her eyes closed. In just a minute's time, he was setting her down on the metal fire escape by her window.

Sloane opened her eyes and let out a breath of relief. She gripped the railing and placed her other hand over her heart, just to feel how much it was racing. Her mind drifted back to the figure in the trees. She remembered how fast he'd chased her, the weapon in his hands, the way her legs burned –

A hand was placed on her arm.

Sloane whipped forward, ready to sock the dark, manly figure right in the nose. But it was only Spider-Man. And she was safe.

"Sorry," she mumbled, drawing her arm back. It was then that she noticed how close he was to her, how little space this fire escape gave the two of them. She swallowed hard when she felt his chest pressed against her arm, and attempted to take a step back.

"Is everything alright?" He asked her calmly.

Sloane looked down and dusted the dirt off her leggings. "I think so."

"Okay," he replied, and then released a breath of relief. His head was tilted towards the sky for a moment, but when he finally turned back to her, that relaxed demeanor was gone. "Wanna tell me why you were out in the middle of the night with someone chasing after you?"

She was caught off guard by his accusatory tone. "You act as if I planned for that to happen."

He scoffed, lifting a hand. "Who even was that?"

"You think I know?" She arched a brow, one hand gripping the railing for support. Her legs still felt like jelly after all that running. "That could've been the Jawbreaker that we just let get away!"

"Pretty sure that's better than your blood being spread across the pavement."

She couldn't help but laugh. He was right, but there was something slightly humorous about the reality of the situation. "That sounds like something Peter would say."

Spider-Man glanced away for a moment, and Sloane did the same. Awkward tension rippled between them, and she suddenly could look anywhere but him. With her eyes directed towards the moon above them, she muttered, "Listen, I know we haven't spoken or seen each other since ... that call, and I'm sorry –"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him do a backflip and land on the edge of the penthouse roof. Sloane turned around and giggled at the way he hung upside down by only a single web string. Whatever it was made of, it was undoubtedly strong.

"Are you?" He chastised. "Sorry?"

His tone relieved her. Peter was right; she had been worrying over nothing, and Spider-Man had seen that call for what it was: a joke. A drunk dial. A few slurred words said in the darkness of a grungy bar.

With a brow raised, Sloane asked, "How did you know where I was just then?" She tilted her head to the side. "Were you following me?"

He was so lucky that the mask hid his facial features. Sloane wished she could see his expression right now. In response, he shrugged his shoulders. "I was in the neighborhood."

Her eyes scrutinized him. "I think you're getting worse at lying the longer you're around me."

"It's looking like that, huh?" Spider-Man huffed out a laugh. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the position he was in or the sudden spike of anxiety through his bloodstream. "And yet, I've managed to still keep my identity a secret."

"Not for long," she whispered, taking a step closer to him.

Sloane didn't know if it was the adrenaline pumping through her veins, or the sudden thrill of her near-death experience, but she got so close to him that she could just about taste his breath. Cinnamon gum. Just like her dream.

"Can I kiss you?"

She said it so fast that she almost didn't register her own words. Spider-Man paused, unable to speak, and adjusted his grip on the web string holding him up.

Sloane played with a strand of her hair, trying to make up for the awkward silence. "Just ... as a thank you for saving my life."

"Oh, just as a thank you?" He laughed, lifting a hand to yank down on his mask.

Sloane placed her right hand on top of his, halting his actions, and carefully peeled the mask down. He almost went for her grip to stop her, but she promised, "I won't pull it all the way down." She rolled the mask just to his cupid's bow, exposing his mouth and five o'clock shadow. Her fingers grazed his bottom lip. It was fuller than the top.

Surely, kissing someone upside down wasn't ideal. However, neither was kissing a masked vigilante who refused to show his whole face. But he was finally letting her in, allowing her to see just a snippet of him, and that was enough. For now.

With her hands on his cheekbones, she leaned in and pressed her lips onto his. He tasted exactly how she thought he would – like whiskey, and cinnamon, and everything she shouldn't enjoy. He braced his left hand on the back of her head, using the other to hold himself up, and sparks erupted in her stomach. In all her years, kissing someone had never felt like this. It was like every kiss, every mistake – it had all led up to this moment. Just her and him on the fire escape of her mom's penthouse in the early hours of the morning.

She wanted to explore every crevice of his mouth, taste every flavor that lingered on his tongue, but she didn't want to get too ahead of herself. It was getting late. Grazing her mouth against his own, she whispered, "Thanks. Again."

"No worries. It's – uh – what I do," he chuckled, stumbling over his words. "Just your friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: FIRST!!! KISS!!!!!! don't worry tho, there's a lot more where that came from hehe

I can't thank you guys enough for all the love you've shown this story so far! I've been posting some cool gifsets for it on my tumblr, @/witchywcmans, if you wanna check them out!!!