It wasn’t like there was much to do on rainy, overcast and gloomy afternoons like these. And considering you and your best friend, Peter Parker, had just graduated high school, it’s not like either of you had school to worry about. Instead, it was time to figure out what the heck to do with your lives and determine how to afford the shared apartment you both figured you’d try renting. Let’s just say that you both hadn’t quite thought through everything before making that official and now, you’re scrambling. “How in the world are we going to do this, Pete?” You chuckle with a shake of your head, dismissing your own scribbles in the notebook in front of you, glancing up at the person across from you, face hidden behind the screen of his laptop, fingers dancing over the keyboard. Peter pauses, brown eyes raising to meet yours, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I sold another, another couple of photos to The Bugle, so that oughta help,” He explains, earning a slow nod of thought from you. “It would help if that guy paid you a fair wage, though.” Now it’s Peter’s turn to chuckle with a shake of his head, a genuine grin falling across his handsome features. “Aw, Jameson, Jameson pays, paid me a fair wage if it was 1961… He paid me a fair wage.” “Well, it’s not 1961,” You sigh heavily as Peter’s attention once more returns to his laptop, the clacking of keys once more becoming evident. You also return to your own notebook, your scattered thoughts about the next opinion piece you’re planning to submit to The Bugle written in an array of ink colors, messy pencil scribbles also evident amongst all of the different colored highlighting and sticky notes. Picking up the pen you’d set aside previously, you simply stare at the page, mulling over your thoughts moving at the speed of light… but then… “Geez!” You gasp in surprise, clicking the pen in the process, the sharp tone of your cell phone ringing equally startling both you and Peter. His questioning gaze raising to meet yours as you answer the call, listening to the automated message on the other end, a robotic voice informing you of your next work shift. “Who was that?” Your friend muses aloud as you hang up, gesturing to the device you’d just tossed aside in annoyance, back into your backpack. “Just work,” You grumble, reaching for your empty mug and refilling it with the coffee a waitress had brought over for the pair of you a while ago. Somehow, as you watch the steam rise from the darkly colored liquid, it’s even still hot. “They put me on for a double shift tomorrow night.” At this, Peter frowns, a slightly disapproving look upon his features. “A double shift, huh?” “Yeah…” You huff, taking a sip of your beverage, refocusing slightly. “It should help… But let’s just get what needs to be done, done today, okay?” You watch your friend just nod, seeming to be caught up in his own thoughts. And as the pair of you continue to work away, sending email after email, jotting down note after note, the afternoon continues to wear on. But you don’t mind. After all, you’re with Peter Parker and nothing beats that.