A/N: This fic is based off the novel The Starless Sea written by Erin Morgenstern. This sounded wayyy better in my head but um, yeah. If it helps to create the tone desired, play cover of Dance Monkey by Joey Stamper.

As uncomfortable as it is, Peter relinquishes in the shadows. It’s the scariest place in the whole world, dark alleys fathomed by creatures conjured of the imagination. But to Peter, it also happens to be the only place that he knew best. 

The death of Tony Stark had sent everything spiraling down. Quentin Beck labeled him as a murderer, and HYDRA titled him as Prisoner 616, only to throw him back in the world where the Avengers existed, just not formally. 

He had expected to be welcomed with open arms but found himself neglected once again. His aunt had moved on, everyone had moved on. It had seemed that everyone, except for Peter. There was nothing more painful then everyone that still lived like him moved on, suggesting that they had easily accepted his death and moved on. Which for Peter to do, would be the second hardest thing to do. Above that, was walking away from the funeral of Tony Stark. 

A soft sigh slips out of the boy’s lips as he buries his trembling hands deeper in his pockets, shivering as the cold stung around him. He hunches his shoulders over him as the cold began to bite around his neck, and Peter begins to wish that he had bought a scarf with the remaining money he had left. Oh, the things Peter wishes he could’ve done if he could turn back time to the good ol’ days. It was a shame that the time machine was destroyed, leaving all the heroes that were sacrificed, sacrificed. 

Peter increases his pace to avoid the cold that he’s grown to hate when a scrap of paper flew right past him. He would’ve ignored the paper, but his spider senses had a different idea. They tingled, practically flared and Peter caught the scrap of paper before it could smack him right in the face. 

After three months of being on the run all by himself, he can’t help but take curiosity in the cursive lettering on the paper. The paper detailed of a party, specifically a masquerade party at the hotel that he was staying tonight from eight till midnight. Naturally, Peter would’ve dismissed the paper, but something in his gut persuaded him to attend. It had been a long time since Peter went to a party, the last time he remembered attending one would be for his high school graduation, six years ago. A little fun wouldn’t hurt anyone, Peter thought as he briskly walked now with a purpose.  

He hurried back to his hotel room, having four hours to spare. Which if he managed his time properly, he’d have enough time to shower, eat, and put something together. After showering and eating, Peter rummaged through his bags of clothes to find something worthy of a New York City party. He settled on a white blouse with black dress pants and shoes. Which left a mask. 

The mask would be the most important piece of his attire. The mask would set him apart from everyone else, and make him invincible, a blurred line amongst the rest. The only mask he had was his Spiderman one, and there was no way he could show up in that. But, with a little deep searching, Peter finds a dark blue mask awaiting him. 

And like the stars in the sea, the clock chimed eight. Peter breathed in from the mask as the elevator descended onto the main lobby. A soft classical was echoing from the piano, which Peter assumed was Beethoven or someone along those lines. The rich smell of champagne and clinking glasses aroused Peter’s senses, creating a feeling of giddy to wash over the teenager. 

 They say oh my god I see the way you shine

Take your hand, my dear, and place them both in mine

Peter had to admit, the scenery is beautiful. Fuzzy colored lights twinkle across strewn curtains, revealing the light fall of snowflakes. The music isn’t too loud or too quiet, a pleasing pitch to his enhanced hearing. A concierge worker from earlier, Peter remembered approached him with a tray of sparkling glasses that Peter assumes is champagne from the intoxicating smell. 

 You know you stopped me dead when I was passing by

And now I beg to see you dance just one more time

She offers and Peter accepts. He was twenty-three years old now, and knew that there wouldn’t be any harm with one drink. He waited a few moments for his spider senses to indicate otherwise, and took a small sip, letting the beverage fizzle on his tongue. Peter was no expert in the fine art of wine and alcohol, but whatever he was drinking, tasted amazing. 

Ooh I see you, see you, see you every time

And oh my I, I like your style

He finished his drink in a timely matter and decides to explore the party. He mingles in the crowd, and people smile and beckon him forth. It’s empowering, different that with the masquerade mask outlining his face, he’s accepted easily. His Spiderman mask once made him feel the same way, but this was a whole new level. It was intoxicating, and Peter couldn’t help but thrive on the drunken feeling of invincibility. 

You, you make me, make me, make me wanna cry

And now I beg to see you dance just one more time

Peter finds a smile growing on his lips, as the chorus picks up. The song’s cover has the most perfect frequency that soothes his nerves and makes Peter blend in perfectly. And when he turns, he sees her. 

There’s a woman with red hair, dressed in a simple velvet gown of the same color. The gown fits her frame perfectly, but is slightly looser compared to the tight-fitting clothing worn by others. The scarlet fabric clung to her wrists and trailed to her knees. She wore a simple gold necklace that Peter couldn’t recognize, but was certain that he had seen it before somewhere. She was pretty with dark red lipstick, but not in a romantic or sexual way. She too wore a Venetian mask that was donned with black lace and silk gloves. 

As if she knew exactly who he was, she approaches him. She smiles kindly, and Peter could tell she was a little older than him. Her eyes are luminescent, captivating Peter not in a romantic way, but in the way where mysteries lie deep. Something about her brings a sense of familiarity, but the boy cannot place from wear. 

She asks with a hint of slyness, “Would you like a dance? You seem lonely, we can be two people attending a party, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Finding no harm in accepting, Peter complies with her request agreeing, “Of course miss.” 

The woman chuckles and smiles. It’s a good look on her, especially with the way her eyes twinkle with confliction. A look he’s seen before, but his mind just won’t tell him from where, “Oh, no need for that, I’m not that old.” Peter’s not sure if she’s imagining it, but a hint of Russian slips into her tone. 

So I say

Dance for me, dance for me, dance for me, oh, oh, oh

Peter wonders why would she want to dance with him? After all, he’s just a nobody under this mask, and that’s his most powerful weapon. Appearances can be deceiving, more often than not. 

Being the gentlemen he is, Peter offered to lead the woman who agreed gratefully. The music picks up, and Peter’s touch is light, not wanting to make the woman uncomfortable. On the other hand, the woman maintains the same type of contact, one hand curled over his shoulder, and just grazing his waist. It’s a game of mutual respect as the chorus continues with the hazy aesthetic of a cacophony. 

I've never seen anybody do the things you do before

They say move for me, move for me, move for me, ay, ay, ay

And when you're done I'll make you do it all again

Pristine glass shines in the background. The intensity of the reflection is so strong, Peter feels his eyes water. He spins the woman who gracefully adjourns him. It’s poetic, and well synchronized, to the point where one would think that the two rehearsed it. 

The mysterious woman speaks, “If you don’t mind me asking, how are you?” 

The attempt to strike a conversation almost makes Peter jump, “I’m good, and you?” 

The woman chuckles lightly, “I’m well, thank you for asking…”

Peter fills in what he assumes to be his name, “Parker.” 

Emerald eyes twinkle as the belonger of them smiles kindly. She fulfills their exchange with a wink, “Rushman, Natalie Rushman.” 

I said oh my god I see you walking by

Take my hands, my dear, and look me in my eyes

The woman, Natalie as she introduces decides to lead, and Peter is subject to follow. He finds himself trapped in her emerald-stoned eyes as she leads him against the wood, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Peter wonders who this woman is, and where does she really come from? Everything about her is a mystery, and Peter can’t help but intrigue further. 

Just like a monkey I've been dancing my whole life

And you just beg to see me dance just one more time

The woman notices Peter’s attention on the glass and speaks suddenly, “Glass is always threatened to break, but this glass won’t crumble like a delicate shard. Glass is known to be delicate and fragile, but when it cuts, it ensures that blood is drawn.” Her voice is light and pristine, just like glass. She leads Peter into a turn and meets his eyes. 

Peter’s smile thins slightly, “Well, that is an interesting way to think of glass.”

Ooh I see you, see you, see you every time

And oh my I, I like your style

It’s not until the clock chimes that another hour has passed when the scarlet-donning woman stops, “I’m afraid our time together has come to an end. However,” she says, “I will see you again Mister Parker. Or should I say, Peter?” 

Peter is close to panicking as he asks, “What do you mean? Who’s Peter?” 

The woman smirks, pulling the edges of her lips up as her eyes twinkle, almost humoring him, “Because our spiders need to stick together, don’t we?"

A/N: Emphasis that I do not ship Peter and Natasha together romantically, and they are not romantically interested in this fic. I just want to reinforce that because some might interpret it as that, and I can assure that they aren't. Thanks and don't forget to comment and leave kudos <3

-Sarah