Not So Friendly Anymore

(Hey everyone, sorry I didn't update last week. It was my mother's birthday and I forgot to announce that I would be taking the week off since we were going on a trip to celebrate.)

---

The air remained thick as Peter's words lingered. Doom, his iron mask concealing any hint of emotion, said nothing. His gaze swept over Peter, Susan, and Sable, cold and calculating as always. Behind him, his green cloak billowed slightly in the wind, flanked by the ever-loyal Doombots standing sentinel.

Peter stood firm, though he could feel the weight of the silence pressing down. Sable shifted subtly, ready for whatever might come, while Susan's posture was calm yet resolute, her history with Doom evident in her stance.

Then, Doom's gaze shifted, settling on Franklin and Valeria. Though his expression couldn't be seen behind the iron mask, his body language changed, a slight pause, a moment of recognition.

Valeria's face lit up, breaking the tension entirely. "Uncle Doom!" she exclaimed, running forward and throwing her arms around his armored figure.

For a long moment, Doom did nothing. Then, with the faintest inclination of his head, he rested a gauntleted hand lightly on her shoulder. "Valeria," he said, his voice deep and measured, though softer than before. "It has been far too long."

Franklin followed at a slower pace, a reserved but warm smile on his face. "Hi, Uncle Doom," he said, his voice quieter but no less genuine.

Doom nodded slightly, his gaze turning toward Franklin. "Franklin. I see you are growing into the strength I always knew you possessed. Are you still striving to exceed your limits?"

Franklin chuckled lightly. "I'm trying."

"Good," Doom replied, his tone faintly approving. "It is what I expect of you."

For a moment, the scene was almost surreal. Doom, the infamous monarch of Latveria, stood there with the two children, his intimidating armor and mask contrasting sharply with the rare, almost tender moment.

Peter watched from a distance, exchanging a glance with Susan, who gave a small, knowing smile. "He's always been different with them," she murmured.

Peter nodded slowly, though it was still strange to see Doom so... human.

Finally, Doom's gaze shifted back to the adults, his voice regaining its usual imperious tone. "Now," he said, the cold edge returning, "shall we discuss why you have come to My Latveria?"

Peter took a deep breath, stepping forward until he stood a few feet from Doom. The flickering torchlight of the chamber cast long shadows across the ornate walls, the tension between them palpable. "I'm here for one reason, Victor," Peter began, his voice firm. "I want you to teach me magic."

Doom's gaze lingered on Peter for a moment, his iron mask betraying no emotion. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a cold, skeptical edge. "You come to Latveria, to me, of all people, seeking instruction in the mystic arts? Why, Parker, should I ever consider granting you such a request?"

Peter crossed his arms, his posture unwavering under Doom's piercing scrutiny. "Because Reed and Strange wouldn't want you to," he said, his tone steady and deliberate.

For a long moment, silence hung in the air. Then, behind the imposing iron mask, Doom's lips curved into a smirk. Though unseen, the shift was evident in his voice. "Ah, Parker. You do know how to appeal to my sensibilities."

Susan narrowed her eyes at Doom, her arms crossing defensively. "Victor, this isn't about your ego. This is serious."

"And I am nothing if not serious," Doom replied, his tone sharp. "Rest assured, Susan, my decisions are not made lightly."

He turned back to Peter, gesturing toward a grand, ornate door that led deeper into the castle. "Very well. We shall speak in private, Parker. But understand this, what you are asking of me is not something to be taken lightly. Do not waste my time."

Peter nodded, casting a quick glance back at Susan and Sable, who exchanged cautious looks. "I'll handle this," he said, before following Doom toward the door.

As they walked into the grand hall, the door closing behind them with an ominous thud, Peter couldn't help but feel the weight of what he was walking into.

Doom stopped before a large, intricately carved table covered in mystical artifacts and tomes, turning to face Peter. "Now, Parker," he said, his tone measured but commanding. "Explain to me what has brought you to my doorstep with such a request."

Peter held Doom's gaze, his stance unwavering. "I have a power inside me, Victor. Something old, something vast... and I need to learn magic to control it. If I don't, I could lose myself to it." He kept his explanation vague, deliberately avoiding mention of Anansi or the Web of Life. Trusting Doom, especially with something so personal, wasn't a mistake Peter was willing to make, not yet.

Doom regarded him in silence for a moment before stepping away, his cloak billowing as he slowly paced around the chamber. "And why, Parker, should I care about your struggle? What reason do I have to waste my time molding you into something you are not?"

Peter took a slow breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Do you know the name Mephisto?"

The reaction was immediate. The torches lining the castle walls flickered violently, their flames turning an eerie, unnatural green. The very foundations of the castle trembled, a deep, rumbling quake echoing through the halls.

Peter's senses went on high alert as he turned his gaze back to Doom. For the first time since he'd arrived, Doom wasn't composed, wasn't the unshakable monarch of Latveria. He was furious.

Even through the cold, unmoving iron of his mask, Peter could feel the rage radiating from Victor Von Doom.

Peter pressed on. "Mephisto took something from me, something important. And from that reaction, I'm guessing he did the same to you."

Doom's gauntleted fists clenched at his sides, the metal creaking under the pressure. His voice, when he spoke, was a low, venomous growl. "You do not know the depths of what that filth has taken from me."

Peter nodded, taking another step forward. "Then we have a common enemy." He let the words sink in before continuing, his voice unwavering. "You teach me everything you know about magic, and when I'm ready... we take him down. Together."

The chamber fell into silence, save for the crackling of the torches. Doom remained still, his expression unreadable behind his mask. The only sign that he was considering Peter's offer was the faint sound of his fingers tapping against his armored forearm.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Doom finally spoke.

"...Very well."

---

Doom regarded Peter for a long moment before inclining his head ever so slightly. "We will begin your training at dawn. However, there will be conditions."

Peter crossed his arms. "Figured as much. Lay them on me."

Doom turned, pacing slowly toward one of the grand windows overlooking Latveria's capital. "First, you will follow my instructions exactly. There will be no foolish improvisation, no reckless meddling in forces beyond your comprehension. You will learn my way, or you will learn nothing at all."

Peter smirked. "So, basically, don't be me?"

Doom didn't dignify that with a response. "Second," he continued, "you will not speak of our arrangement to anyone outside this castle. If Strange or Richards catches wind of this, I will assume you have broken our agreement, and our lessons will end."

Peter frowned at that but nodded. "Fine. Anything else?"

Doom finally turned back to him. "Only that you survive. Magic is not for the weak-willed, Parker. Many before you have broken under its weight."

Peter let out a slow breath. "Well, good thing I don't break easy."

Doom regarded him for another moment before giving a slight nod. "Then we are in agreement." He turned to one of his Doombots standing silently near the chamber's entrance. "Take him to his quarters."

The Doombot's mechanical eyes flickered before it gestured for Peter to follow.

As Peter was led through the grand halls of Castle Doom, he couldn't help but take in the architecture, equal parts medieval and futuristic, as if an ancient sorcerer had partnered with a mad scientist. Eventually, they arrived at a lavishly furnished chamber, the massive doors sliding open with an ominous hiss.

Inside, waiting for him, were Susan, Sable, Franklin, and Valeria.

The moment he stepped in, Valeria rushed up to him. "Well? What happened?"

Peter exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "We start in the morning."

Sable arched an eyebrow. "That's it? Doom just agreed?"

Peter smirked. "Well, not just like that. He had conditions. No improvising, no telling anyone, and don't die."

Franklin snorted. "Sounds about right."

Susan folded her arms, eyes narrowing slightly. "And you trust him?"

Peter hesitated before shrugging. "Not even a little. But right now, we need each other. And I think, for once, that might be enough."

Valeria looked up at him, eyes filled with curiosity. "Are you scared?"

Peter chuckled, though there was a weight to it. "Terrified."

The room fell into a thoughtful silence as the last light of the sun faded beyond the horizon. Tomorrow, his training would begin. And if Doom's warnings were anything to go by... he was in for hell.

Peter raised an eyebrow as Sable abruptly stood. "Franklin, Valeria, let's go."

Franklin blinked. "Huh? Why?"

Sable turned to him, arms crossed. "Because Peter and Susan need to talk."

Valeria frowned. "About what?"

Sable gave Susan a pointed look, her expression unreadable. Susan stiffened but nodded slightly in understanding.

Franklin groaned. "Oh, come on. Every time an adult says that, something dramatic happens."

"Out." Sable's voice left no room for argument.

With a huff, Franklin got up, followed by Valeria, who gave Peter a suspicious glance before walking out. The doors shut behind them, leaving Peter alone with Susan.

Peter turned to her, brow furrowed. "Okay... what was that about?"

Susan hesitated, memories surfacing from a conversation she never expected to have...

Flashback, Peter's Penthouse, New York

The warm glow of the city skyline filtered through the massive windows of Peter's penthouse. The atmosphere was quiet, almost tranquil, save for the soft clinking of glasses as Susan poured herself another drink. Across from her, Silver Sable leaned against the sleek marble countertop, watching her intently.

Then, out of nowhere, Sable spoke.

"You love him."

Susan froze mid-thought, turning to look at Sable, who leaned against the railing with her usual poise. "What?"

Sable didn't even glance at her. "Peter. You still love him."

Susan felt her chest tighten, but she quickly shook her head. "No. We're just friends. We comforted each other—"

Sable cut her off with a simple, knowing look. "There's no need to lie." Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "And I wouldn't blame you for it."

Susan opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her tongue. Sable wasn't accusing her. She wasn't angry. If anything... she was encouraging her to speak the truth.

The silence between them stretched before Susan finally exhaled and admitted, softly, "Yes."

Sable nodded as if she had expected the answer.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the sounds of the Wakandan wilds filling the air. Then, out of nowhere, Sable asked, "Why haven't you told him?"

Susan scoffed, looking at her incredulously. "Because, in case you've somehow forgotten, you're dating him. I'm not about to ruin that."

Sable chuckled. "I haven't forgotten." She turned fully to face Susan, her expression thoughtful. "Peter deserves as much happiness as he can get."

Susan narrowed her eyes. "And?"

"And so do you."

Susan's breath hitched at that, but Sable wasn't done.

"I'm the Queen of Symkaria," Sable continued smoothly. "Which means I can take a consort. And as many concubines as I want."

Susan blinked, stunned. "... What are you saying?"

Sable smirked. "That I wouldn't mind sharing Peter with you."

Flashback End

Peter blinked, tilting his head slightly. "Susan? You okay?"

Susan snapped out of her thoughts, realizing she had been staring at nothing while Peter looked at her with growing concern.

She inhaled sharply, steadying herself. 'It's now or never.'

"I..." She hesitated for only a second before pushing forward. "I still have feelings for you, Peter."

Peter stiffened, his eyes widening in shock. He opened his mouth to respond, but Susan held up a hand, stopping him. She wasn't done.

"I wasn't going to say anything," she continued, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. "Because you're with Sable, and I didn't want to make things awkward. The last thing I wanted was to be some complication in your life after everything you've been through."

Peter ran a hand through his hair, still processing. "Sue..."

Susan gave him a small, sad smile. "When you were in Wakanda, Sable and I talked," she admitted. "She told me something... unexpected."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "What was it?"

Susan exhaled. "She said that as the Queen of Symkaria, she can have as many lovers as she wants."

Peter froze, completely blindsided. "...Wait. What?"

Susan nodded, giving him a wry smile. "She told me she wouldn't mind sharing you."

Peter sat there, completely stunned, his mind struggling to catch up with what he'd just heard.

Sable... was okay with this? Encouraging it, even?

He ran a hand through his hair, blinking rapidly. "So... you're telling me that Sable wants this?" he asked slowly, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it feel more real.

Susan nodded, watching his reaction carefully. "She told me herself, Peter. She thinks you deserve as much happiness as possible. And..." She hesitated for only a moment before smiling. "She thinks I deserve to be happy too."

Peter let out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wow. I—" He stopped, still processing. This was insane. But at the same time... it felt right.

He looked back at Susan, searching her face. "And this is really what you want?"

Susan didn't answer.

Instead, she closed the distance between them in an instant, straddling his waist and crashing her lips against his.

Peter froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard by the sudden intensity. But then, instinct took over. His hands found her waist, gripping tightly as he pulled her closer, returning the kiss with equal hunger.

A soft moan escaped Susan as her fingers tangled in his hair, deepening the kiss. Heat flooded through them both, their bodies pressing together as the tension between them finally snapped.

The kiss grew more desperate, more heated. Peter felt Susan's hands tugging at his shirt, and he followed suit, sliding his hands beneath the hem of hers, feeling the warmth of her skin.

Neither of them wanted to stop.

And neither of them did.

Susan's breath hitched as Peter's hands traced her back, pulling her closer against him. Their lips met in a slow, heated kiss, the weight of unspoken emotions finally breaking free. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pressing herself against his warmth, feeling the strength beneath his touch.

Peter's grip tightened around her waist, his heartbeat racing as Susan deepened the kiss, her body molding against his. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just raw, unfiltered need between them. His hands roamed her back, tracing every curve with reverence, committing each sensation to memory.

A soft moan escaped Susan's lips as Peter's lips trailed down her neck, his breath hot against her skin. She arched into him, gasping when his hands gripped her hips, holding her firmly. The heat between them grew, an undeniable pull that neither could resist any longer.

As they slowly undressed each other, there was no rush, only the desperate need to feel one another, to make up for lost time. Their movements were languid, exploring, savoring, as if this was something they had both secretly yearned for but never allowed themselves to have.

The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the soft sound of their breathing, the occasional gasp, the way their bodies pressed together in perfect harmony. Peter's name left Susan's lips in a whisper, and he responded in kind, his voice rough with emotion.

Peter and Susan moved together in perfect sync, their bodies pressed close as heat radiated between them. Their lips met in deep, desperate kisses, hands exploring, fingers gripping, as they lost themselves in the moment.

Susan gasped against his mouth as Peter's hands traced down her back, pulling her closer. In the throes of passion, she dragged her nails across his skin, leaving faint scratches along his back, marking him as hers in that moment. Peter groaned at the sensation, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

They moved together, each touch igniting something deeper, each whisper and moan drawing them further into each other. The world outside faded away until nothing remained but the two of them, tangled in sheets, lost in passion, in something far greater than simple desire, something raw, unspoken, and undeniably real.

As their breathing slowed and the fire between them settled into something softer, Susan rested her forehead against Peter's, a small smile playing on her lips. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb tracing her cheek, silently asking if she was okay.

She answered by kissing him again, slow, tender, and full of unspoken emotion.

Afterward, as they lay entwined in each other's arms, their bodies still tangled, Susan traced soft circles against Peter's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Peter pressed a kiss to her forehead, exhaling slowly as he murmured, "So... this is really happening?"

Susan smiled, pressing herself closer. "Yeah. It is."

And for the first time in a long time, Peter felt whole.

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