Peter WHY...

"Rest up," Peter (MC) said, his voice calm as he looked at his counterpart. "A day or two, and you'll heal—those bones need time. You're safe here."

The alternate Peter nodded weakly, his sharp red-and-blue suit a mess of rips, his broken hand throbbing under the splint. 

Safe? Maybe, he thought, his mind still reeling from the fight and Goblin's death. But this guy—he's intense. Killed Goblin like it was nothing.

Peter (MC) pulled a small flip phone from his pocket, handing it over. "Here," he said. "Call me if you need anything—number's in there. I'll be back." He turned, locking his computer and other systems with a quick code—screens blinking off, panels securing shut—ensuring the alternate Peter couldn't access them. Can't risk him poking around, Peter (MC) thought, his jaw tight. He's a Spider-Man, but this is my turf—my rules.

He strode out, the lair's heavy door sealing behind him with a soft thud, leaving the alternate Peter in the silent, well-equipped sanctuary. Peter (MC) swung through the snowy Queens night, the early January chill biting as he headed home, his mind on Liz and the next day's routine.

The next day, after school, Peter walked Liz to her apartment, her chatter about the winter formal dance prep filling the air—she'd been busy with committee plans, her excitement infectious. "See you tomorrow," she said, kissing his cheek before darting inside. Peter grinned, then made his way back to the lair, his boots crunching through fresh snow as he slipped into the abandoned railway tunnel, the entrance hidden and secure.

Inside, the air was cool and still, the glow of lights steady as Peter (MC) stepped in, spotting the alternate Peter standing near a large freezer unit along the wall. Green Goblin's body lay inside, frost creeping over his green skin, the broken armor and bloodied glider shard preserved beside him—a grim trophy of the fight. The alternate Peter's suit was patched but still torn, his stance stiff as he stared at the corpse.

"Hey," Peter (MC) said, his voice breaking the silence as he walked in, pulling off his mask to reveal his face, his suit pristine. "You're up—feeling better?"

The alternate Peter turned, his expression a mix of relief and unease. "Yeah," he replied, his voice hoarse. "A bit. Hey." He's back, he thought, his eyes flicking to Peter (MC)'s undamaged suit. Looks like he wasn't even in that fight—how's he so calm after… that?

Peter (MC) crossed to a worn sofa against the wall, dropping onto it with a sigh. He reached into a mini fridge nearby, pulling out a bottle of chocolate shake and a bag of chips, popping the cap and taking a swig. "Grab a seat," he said, nodding to the other end of the sofa as he tore open the chips. "Figured we'd chat—get to know each other."

The alternate Peter hesitated, then sat, his movements cautious, the IV marks still visible on his arms. Chat? he thought, settling in. Guess he's not all fists—wants to talk Earths. Alright.

Peter (MC) crunched a chip, leaning back. "So, your Earth—Earth-1610, right? What's it like? Family, friends—who's in your corner?"

The alternate Peter exhaled, his gaze drifting as he spoke. "It's… busy," he said. "Got Aunt May—she's my rock, keeps me grounded. Friends-wise, there's White Tiger—Ava—she's fierce, all claws and attitude. Iron Fist—Danny—he's calm, zen, but packs a punch. Nova—Sam—he's a hothead, flies around blasting stuff. Power Man—Luke—he's the muscle, unbreakable. And MJ—Mary Jane—she's… special, you know? Keeps me sane."

Peter (MC) nodded, sipping his shake, his thoughts flickering. Aunt May's the same—universal constant, he mused. Those others—team, huh? Sounds like a crew out of a show. My Earth's quieter—Liz, Harry, that's my orbit. "Sounds like a solid squad," he said aloud. "Aunt May's the best—mine's the same. What about Uncle Ben?"

The alternate Peter's face tightened, his voice dropping. "Yeah… Uncle Ben," he said, his eyes distant. "He was killed—some criminal, a robbery gone wrong. Didn't stop it in time. Changed everything."

The alternate Peter leaned forward slightly, his curiosity sharpening as he looked at Peter (MC). "So, your situation," he said, his voice steady despite the lingering rasp. "You've got this lair, the whole setup—what about your friends, your family? Who's keeping you going on this Earth?"

Peter (MC) took a swig of his shake, setting the bottle on the table with a soft clink as he grinned. "Fair question," he said, wiping his hands on his suit. "Family's pretty tight—got Aunt May and Uncle Ben. They're my rock, y'know? Uncle Ben's still kicking—runs the house with Aunt May, keeps me in line."

The alternate Peter's brow furrowed, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Uncle Ben's… alive?" he asked, his tone softening. Alive? he thought, a pang hitting him. That's different—mine's gone, changed everything. How's that shift things for him?

"Yeah," Peter (MC) replied, nodding as he crunched a chip. "He's good—works odd jobs, keeps Aunt May happy. She's the heart—cooks like nobody's business, always on me to bring friends over. They're solid—kept me grounded even with… all this." He gestured vaguely to the lair, his thoughts drifting. Ben's alive here—makes a difference. No guilt driving me, just them keeping me steady.

"Sounds nice," the alternate Peter said, his voice tinged with a bittersweet edge. "Who else you got? Friends, anyone special?"

Peter (MC) grinned wider, leaning back. "Friends-wise, there's Harry—Harry Osborn. He's a riot—rich kid, bit of a mess sometimes, but loyal. Threw this killer New Year's party last week—got drunk and cried 'cause he couldn't find a date for the winter formal. Passed out on my lap."

The alternate Peter chuckled, a faint smile breaking through. "Sounds like a character," he said. Harry Osborn—same name, different vibe? he thought. Mine's… complicated. Wonder how this one's holding up.

"Oh, he is," Peter (MC) said, laughing. "Then there's Liz—Liz Allan, my girlfriend. Been together a few months now—best thing that's happened to me. She's amazing—smart, funny, runs the school like a queen. Taking her to the winter formal dance next week—gonna be a big night."

The alternate Peter's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering. "Girlfriend, huh?" he said, leaning in. "Liz Allan—couple for months? That's cool. Dance sounds big—planning to sweep her off her feet?"

"Damn right," Peter (MC) replied, his grin softening as he thought of Liz—her laugh, her kiss under the Christmas tree. "She's been hyping it up—black tux, red bow tie for me, white dress with red heels for her. Been practicing my moves so I don't trip over her. She's worth it—keeps me sane with all this Spider-stuff."

The alternate Peter nodded, a faint smile lingering. "Sounds like you've got a good thing going," he said, his thoughts drifting. Liz Allan—girlfriend? That's new. MJ's my anchor, but this—he's got a whole life here. Dance, friends, family still intact. Different stakes.

"Yeah," Peter (MC) said, popping another chip into his mouth, his eyes glinting with warmth. "They're my world—Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Harry, Liz. Keeps me swinging, y'know?"