Chapter 5: "Lunch Table Diplomacy (or How Peter Accidentally Got Friends)"
In which cafeteria food is barely touched, casual invitations become life-altering, and Peter Parker's social circle gets an unexpected upgrade.
The afternoon sun poured into the Empire State University cafeteria like it had a personal vendetta against shadows.
Peter Parker sat by the window, bathed in golden light, looking less like a college student and more like a brooding protagonist straight out of a teen drama with superhero undertones. His tray of untouched food sat in front of him like a concerned parent waiting to be acknowledged.
He wasn't ignoring his lunch on purpose. His mind was just…busy.
Web trajectories, chakra flow, nighttime battle simulations, and a detailed mental list titled "Ways to Not Accidentally Vaporize a Lab Partner" had taken priority. It was the sort of stuff that made food seem optional. Also, the cafeteria's meatloaf smelled like it had committed crimes in a past life.
And that's when fate walked over in high heels and designer leather.
"Hello, Peter. You wouldn't mind if we joined you?"
Peter looked up.
There she was. Gwen Stacy.
The Gwen Stacy.
The brainy goddess of the bio lab, who once made a TA cry by asking a question so complicated it required a whiteboard and a minor existential crisis to answer. She looked like someone Vogue would call "effortlessly academic chic." Long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and the kind of confident posture that made even the benches straighten up a little.
Next to her? Harry Osborn.
A living contradiction: rich, charming, internally crumbling. The type of guy who looked like he came out of a cologne ad but secretly wished he was a rock guitarist or maybe just a guy whose dad actually said "I'm proud of you" without following it with a spreadsheet.
Peter blinked. Twice.
Was this a dream? Was Naruto doing a "social confidence side-quest" thing again?
"You can take a seat," Peter said smoothly. "I don't mind."
(Internally: Play it cool. You're not sweating. You don't sweat anymore. You literally metabolize anxiety as chakra. Probably.)
Gwen smiled and sat down beside him, radiating intelligence and peppermint conditioner. Harry, being Harry, flopped across from him like he owned the table.
"Thanks. I thought you were gonna act all snobby, but you don't seem like that at all."
Peter blinked again. That… wasn't the opening line he expected.
"Sorry about that," Peter admitted. "I tend to get lost in thought, so I might come off that way sometimes."
(Translation: I was too busy learning to not accidentally flip dump trucks to remember social etiquette.)
"No problem," Harry said, nonchalant. "I get lost in my thoughts too."
(Your thoughts involve motorcycles and family drama. Mine involve ninja spiders and internal energy pathways. Tomato, tomahto.)
For a moment, there was a strange but not unpleasant silence. The kind that only happens when three people realize none of them are immediately terrible.
Then, Gwen stirred her drink thoughtfully.
"You're not very talkative outside of class, are you?"
Peter raised an eyebrow. "I'm not used to small talk. But if you're interested in it, I don't mind trying."
Smooth. Casual. Spider-Chad mode: activated.
Then he leaned in slightly, like he was discussing science instead of redefining his social life.
"Actually, I was going to ask—would you like to work with me on the upcoming projects?"
Cue: visible surprise from Gwen Stacy.
"Is that really okay with you? It's only been two days."
Peter nodded like this was just logic, not a major character development moment.
"You're the smartest one in class. Seems like a natural choice."
And Gwen? Gwen smirked.
"You're hard to ignore, Peter. That brain of yours works fast. I figured this might happen… but I didn't expect you to ask first."
If this were a sitcom, a laugh track would've played when Harry loudly cleared his throat.
"Hey, hey, what about me? Don't just form a super-nerd alliance without me!"
Peter glanced over. "You can join too."
"Nice," Harry said, smirking. "I'll help you guys not be robots. In return, I bring sarcasm, snacks, and an unnecessarily expensive rooftop we can study on."
He held out his hand. "Phone."
Peter hesitated, then handed it over.
Numbers were exchanged. Contacts saved. Peter Parker now had friends. Actual, non-imaginary, non-radioactive friends.
As they talked—about the terrible cafeteria coffee, about professors with cryptic grading systems, about Harry's theory that the janitor was secretly a vampire—Peter smiled.
Just a little.
Because somewhere between spider bites, destiny, chakra, and secret ninja mentorship, he had forgotten something:
Being normal was okay too.
And today?
Today, Peter Parker was a little bit normal.
And it felt… amazing.
------------------------
Two days into college, and Peter Parker was already violating the universal law of "awkward nerds eat alone."
By lunchtime, his table had turned into what could only be described as a highly suspicious gathering of main characters.
There was Gwen Stacy, who could probably outwit a supercomputer and still have time to do her hair. Harry Osborn, who had the charm of a young Tony Stark minus the emotional stability. And then there was Johnny Storm—a literal celebrity in a leather jacket who walked like the hallway was a catwalk.
Peter had no idea how this was happening.
He kept waiting for the simulation to glitch and reveal that this was all a chakra-induced hallucination courtesy of Naruto's mysterious training plan titled "Social Growth, but Make It Heroic."
But no—this was real. Very real.
Over trays of questionable cafeteria lasagna, their conversation flowed like they'd known each other for years.
"So, you're saying Connors is working on limb regeneration again?" Gwen asked, stabbing a carrot like it owed her rent.
Peter nodded. "Yeah. He's refining the serum. Said he's close to a breakthrough."
"With Oscorp funding?" Harry chimed in, raising a brow. "That sounds… like a lawsuit waiting to happen."
"That's every Oscorp project," Johnny muttered between bites. "No offense."
Harry held up his hands. "None taken. I just sign things. I'm not the evil scientist. That's a few offices down."
Peter chuckled. He couldn't believe how casually Harry was talking about one of the most powerful corporations in the country—like it was just his dad's garage startup.
Then again, when your dad was Norman Osborn, gallows humor probably came with the breakfast cereal.
What surprised Peter most was how interested everyone was in science. Even Johnny Storm, who Peter had assumed spent his time setting off fire alarms and signing autographs, seemed genuinely engaged—at least when he wasn't busy flirting with a girl at the next table.
"You're into genetics too?" Peter asked.
Johnny shrugged. "Not really. But mutations fascinate me. I mean, you ever wonder if people like me and the Hulk are the beginning of something new? Like a whole new branch of humanity?"
That actually caught Peter off guard. The Human Torch, asking philosophical questions about evolution?
Who knew?
After lunch, they split up to attend classes. But eventually, as all things must, the cool-kid coalition dispersed.
Gwen had somewhere to be—likely a lab or possibly a secret mission to expose academic corruption. (Peter wouldn't be surprised.)
Harry had plans with Johnny. Apparently, there was a party happening tonight, and it was shaping up to be one of those "everyone-who's-anyone-will-be-there" kind of things.
Naturally, they invited Peter.
"You coming?" Johnny asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "We'll have music, dancing, possibly explosions. Real ones, not metaphorical."
"Pass," Peter replied instantly, raising both hands like he was warding off a demon. "Crowds, loud noises, random people touching me? I'd rather wrestle a radioactive bear."
Harry laughed. "Your loss. But if you change your mind, text me. There's always room for one more."
Peter waved as they left, watching the two disappear down the hallway—Johnny already drawing a crowd of admirers like a human lighthouse.
-----------------------
Peter Parker had one goal as he walked home under the amber glow of streetlights:
Build. Everything.
The excitement bubbled inside him like Gwen during a debate on particle realignment theory. His mind was alive with blueprints and diagrams that he desperately wished he had the budget to bring to life.
Because let's be real—chakra was amazing.
But relying on it alone was like going skydiving with only your gut instincts and hoping gravity was in a good mood.
Nope.
He needed backup.
He needed tech.
The Wish List:
Artificial Web-Shooters
Sure, he could use chakra to make webs. But chakra depletion = awkward plummeting death.
So tech-based backup it was. Wrist-mounted launchers that worked even if he was running on fumes.
Drones
For recon, distraction, or sending out pizza orders if it came to that. Compact, silent, and—ideally—not explodable.
Tracers
You know, to tag baddies in case they decided to disappear mid-monologue. Preferably with a stealth mode that didn't beep every ten seconds.
Mines & Bombs
Non-lethal, of course. Peter wasn't planning to join the Punisher's Christmas party. But stunning mines or smoke bombs? Extremely useful.
Poisons for Incapacitating
Inspired by nature. Spider venom, tranquilizer agents, or Naruto's "please-go-to-sleep-now" formulas.
And that was the dream.
The problem?
Peter had exactly $17.23 in his wallet and a half-eaten granola bar in his backpack.
His funding situation made Gotham's orphans look financially stable.
"Maybe I can pawn my old microscope," he muttered as he passed a 24-hour pawn shop.
"…No. I love that microscope."
So yeah. Unless the Avengers started a Science Bros Micro-Grant Program, Peter was stuck prototyping with scraps, junkyard tech, and sheer willpower.
The Temporary Plan:
Build one gadget at a time.
Use university labs (politely and non-illegally) for materials.
Start with web-shooters—because falling off a skyscraper due to chakra burnout was not on the to-do list.