[Third Person PoV]
After handshakes and greetings were passed around between everyone present, Peter's attention drifted away from the crowd. He wasn't really focused on the conversations happening around him — his eyes were searching for someone in particular.
At a distance, he finally spotted them — Gwen and her father, Captain George Stacy. The two were standing near a patrol car, engaged in what looked like idle chatter while a few other officers loitered nearby, sipping coffee and glancing toward the gathering.
For a few seconds, Peter couldn't help but just stare. Gwen looked almost like she had stepped right out of a books. She wore a light green raincoat that contrasted perfectly with her platinum-blonde hair, a black headband tucked neatly in place, a dark turtleneck beneath, and a deep purple skirt that swayed slightly in the breeze. The resemblance was uncanny — comic-accurate, as Peter would call it.
He chuckled quietly to himself, half in admiration, half in disbelief. "No way she planned that," he muttered before raising his hand and waving them over with an easy grin.
George noticed first, his expression immediately souring as if Peter's mere existence gave him a migraine. Still, out of politeness — and probably because Gwen nudged him — he started walking over. When they reached the group, George went straight for Uncle Ben, exchanging a firm handshake and a polite greeting, all while completely ignoring Peter standing right beside him.
Peter, of course, didn't let that slide. He grinned mischievously, tilting his head. "Come on, where's my greeting~?" he asked in a sing-song, teasing tone.
"I don't even want to look at you," George scoffed, turning the other way with a grunt of annoyance.
"Oh, don't be like that," Peter said, clasping his hands together with exaggerated eagerness. "It's just a greeting. Be a good sport — greet your boss."
That last word made George visibly twitch. A vein throbbed along his temple, and he had to take a slow, steady breath just to keep himself from snapping.
"Come on, George, it's just a greeting. What's so wrong with that?" Uncle Ben chimed in, clearly amused by the exchange. He wore that trademark smile of his — half warm, half entertained by the chaos unfolding.
"Not you too, Benjamin," George grumbled, glaring sideways. "One Parker getting on my nerves is already enough to drive me up the wall. I don't need two."
Ben just laughed and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Oh, relax. You'll live."
Peter crossed his arms, leaning slightly to the side as his grin widened. "Greet your boss. I didn't pay half a million dollars for nothing, you know."
George's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing dangerously. He leaned in until his voice dropped to a sharp whisper. "I would rather slit my own wrist."
Gwen, clearly used to her father's dramatics, rolled her eyes. "Come on, Dad. What's so hard about calling Pete 'boss'? I mean, technically, he is your boss. Didn't you always tell me to respect my superiors?"
George stared at her in disbelief. His eyebrows twitched. "Whose side are you on?"
"Pete's," Gwen replied instantly without a shred of hesitation.
Peter laughed under his breath while George exhaled heavily, muttering something unintelligible before turning around as if preparing to walk off.
"Janice," Peter called casually, "if he walks away, prepare to withdraw all funding and donations I've given to the NYPD."
Janice, barely suppressing her amusement, gave Peter a knowing smirk and nodded. "Of course, boss. We can't have people around who don't respect authority, after all."
Peter held out his hand low for a quick low-five, which Janice returned with a small chuckle.
George froze mid-step, shoulders stiff. Slowly, he turned back around and fixed Peter with a look that could have cut through steel. "That is low," he said through clenched teeth. "Even for you. Do you have any sense of shame?"
Peter's smirk widened. "Shame? As far as I remember, shame doesn't pay my bills. And if you're worried about my reputation, you should know by now that's never really been my concern." He tilted his chin up slightly, his grin positively insufferable. "Now you, on the other hand — I wonder how your team would feel knowing you cost them major funding because you wouldn't call me boss."
From the sidelines, Natalie leaned closer to Janice, whispering behind her hand, "Is he seriously blackmailing the captain of a police department?"
Janice leaned in as well, whispering back with a small smirk, "From what I understand, they're actually pretty close."
"You're despicable…" George growled, his face flushed red from a mix of frustration and embarrassment.
"This despicable person," Peter said, leaning in with a smug grin, "is the one putting money in your wallet." He cupped a hand beside his ear, feigning difficulty hearing. "Now come on, let me hear it — loud and clear — 'Greetings, boss, I hope you're having a good morning.'"
George's jaw tightened. Every muscle in his face twitched as he stared at Peter's smirking expression. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"G—Greeting, boss…" George forced out between his teeth, his tone dripping with restrained rage. "I hope—"
"The hell is that?" Peter cut in, pretending to wince. "I can barely hear you! Say it with your chest! Or are those pectoral muscles just for decoration?"
A long, exhausted sigh escaped George. He dropped his head in utter defeat, muttering a silent prayer for patience before speaking again — this time louder, with the tone of a man who had truly given up.
"Greetings, boss. I hope you're having a good morning."
"Yes!" Peter cheered, pumping his fist like he'd just won the lottery. "At ease, Captain! I'm having a fantastic morning! All that money was so goddamn worth it."
"Asshole," George muttered under his breath, turning around to walk away before Peter could find another reason to humiliate him further.
But before he could take three steps, he froze.
"Greetings boss, I hope you're having a good morning…"
George turned slowly — painfully slowly — to see Peter holding up his phone with a recording app open, pressing play over and over again as George's own reluctant voice echoed mockingly.
"Greetings boss, I hope you're having a good morning…"
Peter pressed it again, grinning ear to ear.
"Okay, Pete, please stop teasing my dad," Gwen said, reaching up to gently lower his hand before he could replay it again. "I think you've tormented him enough for one day."
"As you wish, mademoiselle," Peter said with a playful bow, slipping his phone back into his pocket. The smug satisfaction on his face said it all — he'd already won.
As Gwen shook her head in amusement, Peter leaned a little closer, his tone softening. "By the way, you look spectacular today."
Gwen's lips curled into a knowing grin. "Oh, I could tell. I felt your gaze on me earlier," she teased. "You like what I'm wearing that much?"
Peter nodded without hesitation. "It suits you — perfectly."
Her smile deepened, clearly pleased by the compliment, but before she could respond, a new voice called out from across the lot.
"Hope you guys don't mind if we join you!"
They both turned to see Felicia strutting over with her usual confidence, Lydia walking just behind her, two other figures were beside them — Harry and Lizzy, casually chatting as they approached.
"Hope we're not late to the party," Harry said, stepping forward to dap Peter up. They exchanged a quick handshake and pat on the back.
"You're right on time," Peter said with a grin. "We were just about to head inside."
"Peter," Lydia greeted flatly, her voice carrying a sharp edge. Her narrowed eyes made it obvious she was still upset about whatever had gone down earlier.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle. "Would you look at the time? We better get moving! No time to waste, haha…" He started power-walking toward the entrance with all the nervous energy of someone desperate to avoid another argument.
Everyone else exchanged confused glances, though Gwen and Felicia couldn't help but chuckle, both shaking their heads knowingly.
Madeline leaned toward Lydia as they followed behind. "You seem… different today," she observed curiously.
"Tons of makeup," Lydia replied flatly, not even blinking.
As the group began moving toward the entrance, Natasha lingered behind for a moment, her sharp eyes scanning over each of them. Her expression was thoughtful, guarded.
'Strange… very strange,' she thought silently. 'I'll need to keep a closer eye on these people. They're all far from normal.'
At the doorway, Peter stopped and lifted the ceremonial ribbon that had been tied across the entrance. "Careful, don't snag your clothes," he said as he held it up, letting everyone duck beneath one by one.
The moment they stepped inside, a collective murmur of amazement spread through the group. The interior was stunning — spacious and filled with light. The tall ceiling gave the place a welcoming, cathedral-like openness. Hanging from the rafters was a large banner that read:
"Welcome to F.E.A.S.T."
On each side of the main hall were open doorways leading to various sections of the community center. At the far end stood two massive metal doors that opened into what looked like a cafeteria or event space. On either side of those doors, twin staircases curved upward toward the second floor, adding to the grand design.
Peter stepped forward, spreading his arms wide with a proud grin. "Bienvenido to F.E.A.S.T.!" he declared in his best dramatic tone.
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