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Peter sighed, wishing his shift would end sooner. It was not that he did not like working at the little bookshop located between the Bowery and Crime Alley, just that it was still chilly and too close to the river for his comfort. The air smelt faintly of blood, gunpowder, and dust. Almost as it had on Titan. The only difference was that the air was not as dry in Gotham. It did not make his throat itch.
“Peter,” Karen’s gentle voice cut through his rapidly rising panic, “it’s a quarter past two. You are in Gotham, New Jersey. You are working until six in the evening at a secondhand bookstore. It’s March 17th.” He took a deep breath.
“Thanks, Karen.” Peter smiled slightly, looking down at where his web-shooters sat.
He had to leave his Starkwatch back at the apartment because it was too flashy and unique for this universe. His web-shooters were not the best way to talk to Karen, but they managed just fine thanks to the nanobots and his super-hearing. It would be better if he had a phone; technically he did, or, well, Ric did. Peter just felt a little uncomfortable using it for his own needs, just like the money that apparently transferred into Ric’s bank account every two weeks — hence the job here. Plus, he also needed to buy food somehow.
The bell above the door chimed. Peter internally hoped it was not robbers… Again.
“Welcome to ‘A Book’s Second Breath.’ Is there anything I can help you find?” His smile became a little less forced when he realized it was a short boy with dyed black hair and slightly visible red roots.
The boy blinked, looking slightly confused and on guard at his cheeriness. He felt somewhat familiar.
“No, thank you.”
Peter nodded, letting him peruse on his own through the books on the shelves. Karen carefully showed him an article about Jason Todd-Wayne using the hologram projectors in his web-shooters.
Oh, that was why he seemed familiar.
Karen had added quite a lot of the gossip from the ‘Gotham Gazette’ in her files of this universe for Peter to read and become more knowledgeable about this Earth. He still did not understand how the yellow press was supposed to help him, but he had enjoyed reading some of the more outrageous articles. He had especially loved the ones about Brucie Wayne’s recent adventures, the dude was the best meme material. Peter kind of wished they had someone like him back in his universe because even Mr. Stark’s scandals were somehow tame compared to all the stories about the illusive CEO of Wayne Enterprises.
“Hey, lad, you sure you don’t need my help?”
Peter startled so badly he almost broke the edge of the counter he was sitting behind. His heart stopped and then sped up so fast he felt nauseous as he noticed Bruce Wayne standing in the doorway for the first time.
Bruce Wayne, whose heartbeat was freakishly strong and steady, was forcefully calm in a way that made him so distinct to Peter. He was in one of those expensive suits that had absolutely been custom made, with crinkling eyes and a dumb little smile that was somehow still warm. Peter did not miss the sharp gaze that swept the bookstore, though.
He had Bruce Wayne in his bookshop, — he had Tony Stark in his living room — looking at him with interest. He had Batman in front of him, — he had Iron Man in front of him — speaking to him.
Oh God.
Bruce Wayne was Batman.
Oh God, he was saying something to Peter.
“Old man, you are scaring the shit outta everyone here with your fancy suits,” Jason’s voice cut through the awkwardness on Mr. Wayne’s part and the panic on his. “I can buy books by myself,” he told Mr. Wayne then turned to Peter. “Ignore him,” he said as he put ‘The Merry Adventures Of Robin Hood’, ‘Lady of the Forest’, and ‘Maid Marian’ on the counter.
Peter blinked, shocked out of the panic.
Jason Todd-Wayne was Robin. Robin was buying books about Robin. He coughed out a weak laugh.
“Sorry, uh—” Peter started checking the books out, trying to think of something to say to explain his strange reaction, “—but it is kind of hard to ignore a man as tall as—” Thor, “—my fridge.”
Jason snorted.
“You can always just punch a fridge, ‘s not like it can fight back.” There was clear amusement in his voice.
“Well, the door is broken, so I think if I punch it, it’ll punch me right back in the face. And I don’t wanna get into a fight with the thing that has food inside it first thing in the morning,” Peter said honestly, thinking he should probably repair the refrigerator door at the apartment. “That’ll be 22 dollars and 96 cents.”
Before Jason could get his wallet out, Mr. Wayne had already handed Peter a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill. He took it, praying he had the amount of change needed.
“B,” Jason’s voice was devastated, “no one’s going to have that much change this close to Crime Alley at two thirty in the afternoon.”
“Uh—” Peter awkwardly counted out the right amount of bills and pushed them forward with the books.
“You weren’t robbed yet?” Jason blurted out incredulously.
What a bizarre question.
Only in Gotham, it was not. Peter kind of hated this city but also found it strangely endearing.
“People tried. I believe,” Peter scratched the back of his head in thought, “three times today. I guess even robbers are weak against the OED,” he nodded toward the old paperback dictionary in grabbing distance.
“Did you also shout definitions of the words no one knows at them?” Jason grinned, taking the books and money from the counter.
Peter grinned back.
“Of course I did,” he smiled proudly.
Jason laughed.
“Bye, New York,” he said, raising his eyebrow at Mr. Wayne, going to the exit of the bookshop.
“It’s Queens!” Peter corrected him, smiling, temporarily forgetting about his recent panic and some very important realizations. “Have a nice day!”
The bell chimed as the door closed behind Jason and Mr. Wayne.