Chapter Text
Peter finishes tying the cloth around Miles’ mask, covering the lenses. “Is that too tight?”
“Nope, I’m good.”
“Great,” Peter responds, walking over to his bag by the roof’s fire escape. Inside are a few containers, all filled with things for the activity he has planned today. He grabs the bag, walking back over to stand in front of his protégé. “Can you see anything at all?”
“Just the light coming through the fabric.”
“Alrighty then, let’s start.” He plops down before Miles, mirroring his criss cross position. He opens the bag to pull out the first item, and—wait. “Shoot, you can probably smell this, can't you?”
Miles hums. “Want me to plug my nose? Well nah cus then I’d just taste the air through my mouth. I can hold my breath if you want?”
Peter thinks for a moment. Maybe Miles’ mask’s filtration system is good enough to hide the scent? He has yet to upgrade it to the level of his own, but it might work to hide the scent as it is now.
“I wouldn't want you to hold it for that long, though.”
“Aw, but I’ve been practicing! I could do it—as long as we take breaks in between,” Miles says insistently.
Peter looks at him amusedly. “Oh yeah? What are you up to now?”
Miles gives a proud grin as he confidently recites, “Eleven minutes.”
“Really? That’s great. You were just at seven back, what, two months ago?”
Miles hums a happy affirmative, nodding in time. Ever since Peter had offhandedly told him that spiders could technically ‘hold their breaths’ for up to an hour, and that Peter himself could go around twenty-five minutes, Miles has been pushing himself to go longer and longer without air. For no reason at all, really—perhaps useful if they ever get gassed, but it’s different for running through a burning building or diving underwater.
“And you’re not going until you pass out, right? Not even close to it?” He really shouldn’t even be letting Miles do this, but to be honest the kid was going to try it with or without his permission. Might as well give him the rundown on how to do it safely.
“Nuh uh, I stop as soon as I feel the need to breathe again. Passing out would be counterproductive. And I always do it with Ganke around as a referee.”
Peter chuckles, finishing unwrapping the item, “That’s good, good job.” He holds it under Miles’ face. “Can you smell that?”
Miles pauses for a moment, before answering, “Nope.”
“Great.” Peter places one half of the split lemon into Miles’ gloved hand. He flinches, almost throwing the fruit off entirely, but it seems like Miles stops it by sticking to it, which only makes him cry out in shock.
“Shoot, ow ow ow ow—”
Peter rushes to hover over the lemon, asking worriedly, “Does it hurt?”
“No, no it’s just—you didn’t tell me that sticking to it would make it stronger!”
“Oh! I’m sorry—yeah, doing that flexes them—the hair things. Brings them out ever so slightly. It actually helps with adhesion too, with the way they’re shaped and all. Remind me to show it to you under the microscope this weekend.”
Miles sighs heavily, feeling and ‘tasting’ the object under the suit’s palm. “Is this another reason why you have this weird mesh over the palms? You told me it was for the sticking powers and better flow of the magnetism.”
Peter reaches gently for Miles’ other hand, unrolling the glove from the wrist, trying to avoid touching his palm. “Yeah, but only a little. The mesh keeps the hairs from coming in direct contact with anything so that it’s not too distracting, but still lets chemical traces pass through. Helps to detect movement, identify substances, the works.”
The glove slips off, and Peter takes the slice of lemon and relocates it into his now bare hand. The initial shock and jerk are much more prominent this time.
“Shi–”
“—Language.”
Miles whines in discomfort, fingers twitching, curling and uncurling as they try to process the new input.
“Describe to me what you’re feeling,” Peter says gently.
Miles takes a few more heavy breaths, still wincing when he finally starts. “It’s acidic. The acid is spiky, stabs at me through everything else. Then the sugar—uh…”
“Hmm, is it cold this time? Hot? Lukewarm, even?”
“Hardy har, Peter. It is actually lukewarm, for your information. And the salt tastes like… burning and chlorine. And…”
“Well, technically, salt is made up of—”
“I know what the formula for salt is, Peter. You gonna let me finish?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Peter says with a smirk, waving his hand even though Miles can't see it, “Go ahead.”
Miles takes a deep breath. “There’s something that feels really muffled, like it’s really diluted but dense at the same time. It’s coming from the peel, I think. Then there’s also a sharp, like, fragrancy thingy—also from the peel.” Miles sits for a minute or two longer, then declares he’s finished.
“You have a great way of describing things. May not be the most scientific, but it’s descriptive nonetheless. Least you can discern and differentiate things.” Peter says, taking the lemon and grabbing a wet wipe. “What do you think it is?”
“A lemon.”
Wow, first guess. “Why not an orange?”
“It doesn't taste like an orange.”
“Why not?”
“Oranges are sweeter and lighter, lemons are bitter and sour.”
“And you got that from your hands?”
“Yep.”
“And why not a lime?”
“I just feel like a lime would be more bitter than this.”
“Grapefruit?”
“I don’t—”
“Kiwi?”
“Oh my god.”
Peter smirks. “Okay, you got it, good job. Ready for the next one?”
Before Miles can respond, Peter is already pressing the wipe into Miles’ palm, and the boy jumps again at the cool sensation, “Fuc—”
“—Miles! I cannot believe your foul mouth today.”
“Just warn me, dude!”
“Uh huh… Now describe it,” Peter replies instead, wiping down his palms carefully. The wipes don’t have too many ingredients, he’d checked, and are definitely lacking any harsh chemicals like alcohol or antiseptic.
Miles sucks in another deep breath, forcing his hand to become lax. Then, “I think that muffled taste from the lemon was fat, maybe. This has the same feel, maybe essential oils? And I can taste that weird fragrancy thing again. There’s not as much chlorine as the other one, and there’s more… warm sugar this time.”
“What’s the fragrance?” Peter questions curiously, moving on to his gloved palm. This is supposed to be unscented, afterall.
“Um… like, leaves? Aloe vera?”
“Aloe vera is very specific” Peter says, raising an eyebrow. “You been eating a lot of raw aloe lately?”
“Well, it feels really muted!—not like the fat, but like, actually muted as in there’s a gap in what I can feel. It feels vaguely itchy, only a tiny bit salty, and really bitter. I don’t know how to describe the fragrance—I just feel it. I guess my brain maybe… associates the combination with what I know aloe vera tastes like? Probably?”
Peter nods. “You’re right.”
“Was I right with it being aloe vera too?”
“That is one of the ingredients, yes, but overall it’s supposed to be unscented.”
“Cool cool… and was I right about the fat? Is it like glycerin or something in there?”
Peter hums an affirmation, already rummaging in the bag for the next thing. “You’re doing good so far. I think you’ve got the distinguishing between different compounds down pact, you just need to focus on naming them. And this doesn’t have to be all in one day, either—it took me a while to—”
“ —Could you—sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—but could you maybe tell me what it feels like for you, too? On the next one? That way I kind of know what level of description I’m trying to go for, y’know?”
Peter smiles. “Of course I can.”
They continued on like that for the better part of an hour, filled with the odd incredibly in-depth explanation of why something worked how it did.
Miles takes to it all pretty well, and easily lets Peter correct him and gently lead him away from “warm sugar” and “spiky”, and into things like sucralose and hydrogen ions. He’s been surprisingly patient and receptive in listening to all of Peter’s science jargon, but then again Peter always underestimates how much he’s willing to learn. Not to mention that the boy’s a literal genius.
But, inevitably, he began to grow bored.
“I’m bored, now.”
Peter chuckles at the abrupt declaration. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. And I’m hungry.”
Peter hums. “Okay, that’s fine. But can we do one more real quick? I promise it’s an important one.”
Miles sighs heavily, taking a moment to seemingly weigh his options. In the meantime, Peter quickly reaches to grab the thing he’d found on the roof around thirty minutes ago. It’s impromptu, but will serve as a good lesson nonetheless. That, and he’s just satisfying his own curiosity.
“Fine,” Miles decides with another sigh. He holds out both palms as practiced, and Peter carefully takes the gloved one to hold steady, while his other hand hovers over it in preparation.
“Warning, this one is a little bit alive, so try not to squish it.”
Miles immediately jerks his hand in shock, but Peter holds it still. “Wha—alive? Are you about to put a bug in my hand?” Miles asks in indignance.
“No… not a bug.” Well, depending on Miles’ definition of bug. Peter can feel the little thing move tentatively inside his closed fist.
Miles squirms. “...Okay, fine, I guess. It won’t bite me, will it?”
“No, now calm down.” Peter loosens his hold on his hand and rubs his thumb over the side of Miles’ palm in a soothing manner. “Just relax. You learned about material chemicals today, and those will be useful in substance identification out on the field, but I want you to eventually be acquainted with pheromones, too. For us, as spiders.”
Miles perked up a bit. “We can actually taste pheromones, too? Not just sense them?”
Peter had told him a while ago how their bodies responded to each other by sensing the invisible, imperceivable pheromones they give off.
“Well, not really… It’s different. But my point is that I’m being very literal when I say it can smell your fear, so you have to be calm.”
“Oh… Okay. I’m ready, I guess.” Miles figure relaxes a bit.
Peter lets the arachnid crawl from his hand onto the gloved one, and watches them both carefully. Miles goes completely silent, and to his credit, doesn’t move like he did with the others.
After a few more seconds of silence, the spider tentatively begins to step forward, occasionally stepping its little feet into the divots of the mesh.
Miles once asked him how he felt about spiders. Peter is generally impassive towards them unless given a reason to feel otherwise, but he has a gentle respect for the one in the boys hand.
“That… I don’t know how to feel about this.”
“Why? What does it feel like?”
“...I don’t know. It’s weird.”
“Hm…” Peter watches as the little spider deliberately probes into the holes of the mesh. “Wanna move it to your other hand?”
Miles thinks for a moment, then nods, pressing his bare hand to the glove, and Peter doesn’t even have to encourage the spider as it walks right into it. Miles stiffens then, but almost instantly relaxes.
“Is it a spider? It feels like one.”
“Mhm. Does it freak you out?”
“I’m not arachnophobic, Pete.”
“Wellll are you getting a better sense for it, at least? It still feel weird?” he asks, watching as the spider paces circles around Miles’ palm. It seems confused.
“Yeah… maybe? I don’t know. I still can’t place it.”
“It’s a wolf spider, if that helps.”
Miles’ head jerks up. “A wolf spider? Did you have this planned?” He looks up a Peter accusingly, his aim only a little off from where Peter’s actually sitting.
“Nope! I saw it on the corner over there a while ago. Just a coincidence, I don’t know how it got up here.”
Miles frowns, and thinks to himself for a minute. “You said that pheromones are all about… reactions, right?”
“Yep. They’re species-specific chemicals specifically made to trigger a reaction in the other party. When it comes to understanding them, you have to pay attention to what it’s making you feel outside of your five senses, since these chemicals don’t trigger your sensory receptors.”
“...I don’t think I’m doing it right.” Miles says hesitantly.
“Why? Do you not feel anything?”
“No, no, I do. Um. I think… I don’t know. It just doesn’t make sense.”
Peter smirks. “That’s the thing. Maybe it doesn’t to human you, but the spider lets out pheromones specifically made for other spiders. Imagine—if you were an actual spider, then would it make a little more sense?”
Miles is quiet for an entire minute. Then he hesitantly voices his results. “Is it a girl spider?”
Peter snorts at the wording. “Yes, she’s female.”
“Um…” Miles’ gloved hand starts to fidget from where it rests on his lap. It seems like he knows what he wants to say, but is still doubting himself. “I think… I think I’m having the very strong urge to… ride on her back?”
Peter laughs, and Miles backtracks, “W-Well I don’t know for certain! It just feels like a different version of whenever I want to ride on your back, like I just really really want to for some reason, and it feels like she’s telling me that there’s danger somewhere—o-or something! I don’t know how that would even work, because I’d squish her if I did that, but—”
“Miles, it’s okay,” Peter reassures in a soothing tone. “You’d be absolutely right, if you did feel that. It’s just instinct. Now I don’t get the same reaction you do, but when I held her myself, I definitely felt that she was panicking a little and worried about her kids, and it seems like that made you feel like you had to placate that.”
“...But I’m not her kid. I’m yours. Why would I care about what she has going on?”
Peter shies and blushes a bit at the blunt admission of Miles seeing Peter as his, albeit faux, parent. “Pheromones like these aren’t specific to the individual, it’s specific to the entire species. She’s going to react the same to all wolf spiderlings, and you’d react the same to all wolf spider-moms. You aren’t even technically ‘my’ kid, yet you still react like you are.”
Miles tilts his head, and Peter can’t see his expression, but his voice sounds offended. “How am I not?”
“Uhh, because we aren’t genetically related at all? Not by human blood or spider blood. For all intents and purposes, you’re basically adopted.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not adopted,” Miles says firmly, and his other hand stops fidgeting to form a fist.
Peter snorts incredulously. “Yes, you are. You only react to me like a spider-parent because I just happen to have the pheromones of a female spider. It’s nothing to do with attachment by—-”
“Yes it does!” Miles shouts. “It’s different with you—you’re not some random, Peter! My spider likes you alone, because I’m yours, your kid. Not anyone else's.”
“Miles—”
“And by saying that, you’re practically admitting that you’d do the same for every other spiderling out there when I’m literally your only one—”
“Why are you getting so upset over—”
“ —and you’re basically saying right now that you’d abandon me over some other janky-ass spider if it came down to it, because apparently we’re all the same—”
“Miles!”
Miles finally stops, and in his silence they both hear… a tiny hissing sound coming from his palm.
Looking down, Peter can see that the spider has turned towards Peter with its little arms raised high in the air, fangs bared, in a pose that’d seem cute or funny to any normal human. But to Peter, it genuinely succeeds in its goal to intimidate him. He instinctively shies back a little, hunching in on himself, trying to submit to the female who is trying to protect her new ward, who is now leaking distressed pheromones.
Miles freezes only momentarily before quickly reaching up to remove his mask and looking down at this spider in his hand.
“...Woah.”
Peter chuckles nervously, feeling a little hesitant and adverse to making any sudden movements. “I think you getting upset made her think that there was a threat, and she decided that it must’ve been me.”
Looking at his face now, Peter can see that Miles doesn’t look nervous at all, cocking his head in curiosity as he looks down at the arachnid.
“That’s cool, I guess.” As he relaxes, the spider goes back to normal, shifting back into the neutral general anxiety she had before. Peter lets out a breath. Yup, that hostility was definitely only targeted towards him.
Miles goes on to say, “I think I could actually feel her willingness to beat you up just then.”
“Yeah, I bet. It’s definitely, uh… effective.”
Miles gives him a look of disbelief, wearing a lopsided smile with his eyebrows raised. “No way, did that actually scare you?”
“Not me, obviously… My spider-half may have found it just a little bit intimidating, though.”
Miles snorts, and holds his palm back out to Peter. “Here.”
Peter reaches out and gently scoops the wolf spider out of his hand, her being a little reluctant to separate from her ‘spiderling’ and trying to hang on. Peter has a feeling that she might’ve been separated from her own, wherever they are. Most likely a dropped egg sac, being that any hatched spiderlings would be on her back right now. The chances of her finding it again are next to none. Shit, maybe she came over here thinking that the baby pheromones Miles gives off were those of her own?
For now, Peter puts her down, and watches as she sits there idly.
He turns back to Miles, “So, how’d you like our little activity?”
Miles got his other glove and stood up to stretch, putting it back on. “It was fun! A boatload of information, but at least I won’t freak out so much whenever I touch things now. Breaking it down to the molecular level actually makes it seem a lot more manageable and less intimidating.” He sidles up to Peter’s side, knocking their shoulders together. “But I can’t believe that you’d have the gall to say that I’m not your spider-son, after everything we’ve been through together. That hurt, Pete.”
Peter reaches an arm out to Miles’ side and tugs him closer, letting him lean heavily into his side. “Hey, I didn’t say you weren’t mine, because you are,” He reaches up to ruffle Miles’ hair, “I said that we just aren’t genetically related.”
Miles groans petulantly, “Don’t say that.”
Peter laughs, really not understanding Miles’ deal over this. “Dude, why not? It’s literally the truth.”
“Because! Then it makes it seem like I was just this stupid, lost baby duck that imprinted on the first thing it saw. I bonded to you specifically because of how I saw you outside of the mutation and the pheromones.”
Peter decides to keep quiet, sensing that Miles won’t appreciate his response to that. Instead, he grabs the backpack with all of the things packed inside and swings it over his shoulder.
“Come on, I want to take this little lady down to Central Park where she’ll do best.” It’s just shy of mating season right now, after all. She’ll probably get a new egg sac in no time, but she definitely won’t do it on a stone building hundreds of meters in the sky. “I’m thinking she either got insanely lost, or she hitched a ride with a bird or something to have gotten all the way up here. Wanna come with?”
Miles nods, turning around to grab his mask, and then they were off.