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Chapter Text

STARK INTERNSHIP

CHAPTER 1: The Invitation

WHEN THE school bell rang, Peter hurried out of his third class of the day, his face immediately wrenching a grimace of discomfort.

The school hallway was stinking— he couldn’t think of another way to describe it. This funky, ill-scented perfume mixed with stale sweat spread through the hallway, and with his enhanced senses, there was no worse way to spend the middle of a Friday school day. 

A couple of students pushed themselves through where Peter was walking, resulting in him almost being knocked off his balance if it hadn't been for his Spidey Sense. Yes, he had seen it coming, but he wasn’t Spider-Man at school, and he was most certaintly not going to bust himself by showing off.

After all, there was only so much Peter Parker could do without making people suspicious.  

“Yo, Parker!”

He turned around, seeing one of the boys in the group looking back only to throw a poisonous smirk at him. Of course Flash Thompson had been the one to almost throw him into the lockers— but seriously, though? Couldn't this guy just give him a break?

“Very funny, Flash!” Peter frustratedly returned as he opened his locker to switch books. Ned had earlier that day suggested that they could spens their free period studying for the big history test on Monday. Although it was ten minutes until they were meeting outside, Peter was the last one to approach the table.

Unlike the school hallway, where hundreds of voices were shouting over one another, the school yard was quiet. Peter felt relieved at the rather fresh smells the moment he stepped out of the school. However, the sounds remained like a rushing river in the background as the door constantly closed and opened by passing students.

“There you are!” Ned welcomed him.

Ned and Peter had known each other for years. They would always joke around after class, build LEGO Star Wars builds, work on projects together, blah-blah-blah. The list basically went on into the infinite. If there was anyone Peter was glad to have by his side, it was definitely Ned. He trusted him with the other half of his life, although Ned had technically been the one to find out. He was his Guy in the Chair.

“Sorry I’m late,” Peter apologized as he dropped his books on the other side of the table and sat down on the bench. He pulled out the one earphone that was in his ear and opened his textbook on the first page of the three chapters they were going to be asked about. Peter sighed. He was so not reasy for this.

“Three chapters, and I'm just now starting to study," Peter admitted. He regretted not studying earlier, because this would take his entire weekend. 

Ned glared at him, his mouth forming a small O. "Dude!" He exclaimed. “You do realize this test is important, right? It’s worth thirty percent of our grade.”

“I know,” Peter responded truthfully– But this wasn't the only class he was failing in. He had been far too busy fighting insane scientists, gangsters, robbers, aliens, a crazy Vulture guy who had turned out to be the father of his girlfriend, a gigantic lizard, and whatever there had been for the last two and a half years.

Especially the last part.

Not to mention the large drug-dealing Mexican gang that showed up in Queens for a week that he only managed to stop just a couple of days ago. Not that it had been difficult or anything, but it had been some of a challenge to figure out their route, as he couldn't exactly just dive into a dark alley with trained assassins at every corner. He had learned that from previous experiences.

But to be honest, Peter would much rather be out fighting crime than to study for a stupid school test.  

“You got notes?” Peter asked, looking up from the textbook to meet Ned’s gaze. His friend nodded and ripped out a page of his notebook that was written on both sides and shoved it across the table.

“I sometimes wonder how you even survive without me,” Ned said. A proud smile flickered across his face, and Peter just snorted and rolled his eyes, looking down on the piece of paper. He quickly furrowed his brows.

“Dude, I can't even read this.” He stifled a laugh, holding up the paper with his hand. Ned quickly snapped it from his fingers. “Friendly advice; drop the cursive stuff.”

His best friend looked at him seriously this time, almost offended. “Oh, come on,” he whined, “I’m trying a new style.”

Peter grimaced, not very convinced. “Calligraphy?”

“If you don't like my new style, forget my notes.”

“Seriously?” Peter groaned. It had been a while since he had seen such a dramatic side of Ned.

“Yes! Give me a month, tops, and I’ll be writing like Leonardo Da Vinci.” Ned sounded awfully optimistic and Peter couldn’t help but let his smile widen. 

“Backwards?”

“You get my point.”

Peter didn’t say anything in response. He looked back at the first page of the chapter, already losing motivation at the very first paragraph. Goddamnit, how was he going to do this and not fail?

As Ned wasn’t paying much attention to what Peter was doing, Peter sneakily snatched Ned’s notes and tucked them into the left pocket of his jacket— the pocket that also worked as his trash bin. He was almost instantly busted by the crunchy noises the paper made, and Ned quickly shot him a look. Peter simply grinned.

“So how’s things been this week? As Spider-Man?” Ned asked after a while. “Anything the Guy in the Chair can help with?” There was a hint of excitement in his voice, even though they had just talked about something familiar a few hours ago.

It was almost amusing, Peter thought, how much Ned enjoyed helping him out as Spider-Man. But he was incredibly thankful. If it hadn't been for Ned, he wasn't sure if he would even be here today.

“Peachy keen,” Peter responded with a chuckle. “And you helped me with a robbery on Tuesday.”

“But I need more.” Ned begged. “Peter, you're KILLING me. My life, unlike yours, is boring. Can't you bite me or something so I can get powers like you?”

Okay, this was something Peter found slightly annoying. Ever since Ned had found out about his identity as Spider-Man, he was constantly asking about all these questions and theories that shone above his head like a light bulb, some weirder than the other. But as annoying as they could be, they were sometimes wildly hilarious, like the one time Ned asked if he could summon an army of spiders. He wished he could, because that could really come in handy. And he wasn’t going to lie— it would be pretty darn cool.

“You know it doesn't work that way.” Peter responded, his attention elsewhere.

“Well, have you tried?”

The teenager looked up from his book. Ned just raised his eyebrows at him. Out of all of Ned’s crazy theories, this had to be the most insane one.

“Dude, are you high or something?”

“You got bitten by a radioactive spider, and kaboom, powers! Maybe if you bit someone, then the same thing that happened to you will happen to the person you bite.”

Okay, Ned had definitely eaten or drunken anything out of the ordinary.

Peter just continued to glare at him. “No! No no no. No. Even if it works, I can't just go around and bite people like a vampire.”

Peter knew it wasn't even possible. Hell, it couldn’t be, because only those in his bloodline could be affected by the spider bite the same way he was. His father had explained it on a video Peter had seen not too long ago. Not that he would try it anyways.

“Well...” Ned trailed off. He seemed to be acknowledging his defeat. “Yeah.”

Peter mused about Ned’s first words for a minute, his gaze locked on the second page of the book. Did Ned not feel included enough with Spider-Man? He frowned. He hoped that's not the case, but if so, it wouldn’t be difficult to fix...

“You know, there’s no Spider-Man without the Guy in the Chair,” Peter began.

Ned didn't look at him. “Yeah...”

“And,” Peter continued as if he hadn’t already heard Ned. “Jameson. The Daily Bugle dude, right? The oldie. I think we can all agree that he’s really been going down our pants lately, right? It’s like he’s asking to be messed with, so, I was thinking maybe we could, you know… payback?”

That was when Ned looked back at him, the corners of his lips starting to form a smile. It was obvious he was starting to see where Peter was going at with this.

If it hadn't been for the boss at The Daily Bugle that cast shadows over Spider-Man all the time, Peter wouldn’t really mind the media company. But Jameson’s hatred towards him was really starting to piss him off— like when he had stopped the Vulture, the dude just had to change the story completely. Saying that Spider-Man had stolen Stark Industries’ airplane and purposely crashed it on the beach. It was just lovely, wasn’t it?

“Say no more, I’m in.” Ned quickly responded. 

Peter grinned and was about to continue (trying) to study, if it hadn’t been for the girl who suddenly seated herself down on the bench next to Peter.

MJ. 

Ever since MJ became the leader for the Decathlon team, – which was briefly two and a half years ago, – Peter found her hanging out with him and Ned way more frequently. Peter thought she was cool and had an impressive artistic side, and apparently she had a pretty good music taste according to Ned. 

MJ was wearing a plain t-shirt underneath her open dark denim jacket. She said hi without looking at Peter, and he said hi back, and then she looked at Ned, who was writing in his notebook again, and asked, “You’re into what, Ned?”

And he answered, “Yeah. Hi.” As if he wasn’t really paying attention to her.

“Loser, Neddy, I asked you a question.” She continued, obviously not letting the subject go.

Peter kicked at the gravelly dirt a little and watched a miniature dust cloud encircle his foot. When Ned didn’t answer, he kicked his leg under the table.

“Ow!” He groaned. “Let me finish this sentence.”

At least twenty seconds passed before Ned was done, and the silence was unbearable. Part of Peter wondered if he was doing this to purposely make them sit awkwardly and wait.

“Yeah, what did ya say?” Ned finally replied.

“You're into what?”

“Huh?”

“You said “Say no more, I’m in” seconds ago. I’m curious.”

“You realize you don't need to know what we were talking about, right?” Ned said. MJ quirked a brow at him.

Ned then glared at Peter. He nodded. MJ already knew his identity as Spider-Man; she had caught him almost the same way Ned had. It was in sophomore year, when Ned and her had been invited over to his apartment to study, but in reality had ended up spending the night watching dumb world records on the TV.

Peter, however, had forgotten about their plans and spent the afternoon fighting crime. If he had brought his phone along, he would have answered their texts and calls, and wouldn't have had to explain himself when he came through the window dressed in full red and blue, crawling into the room where Ned and MJ just happened to be sitting. 

Peter knew it was an asshole thing of him to do, to not tell both of his best friends about his secret earlier. But he had his reasons. The last thing he wanted was to put them in danger. If he could, he would even tell aunt May, but he wasn’t going to risk her life too.

Ned explained to MJ what they had been chatting about before she had arrived. Peter lagged back a little, listening to their conversation with half an ear as he focused on reading at least two more pages of the chapter. He needed to get at least and okay score at this test if he was going to graduate.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Peter heard MJ say. That was when his head instantly snapped up from the book.

What is she talking about? Pranking JJJ is an awesome idea!

“Hell yeah!” he protested before Ned got the chance to, “Jameson is literally begging to be webbed up. Seriously! He’s been complaining about Spider-Man for years— it’s a shame how we haven't done anything yet.”

“Fine. But don't blame me when he’ll be even more pissed,” she backed off. “Anyway, I heard Tiny’s hosting a party tonight. Are we going?”

Peter put his textbook aside. “Since when did we start attending parties?”

“Yeah,” Ned added. “Especially Tiny’s parties? He’s nearly as bad as Flash.”

The girl leaned back against the bench. “Glad that’s settled. My parents are out of town, though. You guys wanna come over?” She asked. Ned accepted immediately.

As much as Peter wanted to say yes too, because it had been ages since the last time the three of them hung out, he knew he couldn’t because of the dumb test. “I don't know. I gotta study.”

“Peter,” she said more seriously, “Come on, it’ll be fun—”

Peter felt the hairs on his neck rise, and MJ was interrupted by a loud voice and hands landing harshly on the table.

“Well, isn’t it Penis Parker and Co?”

It was Flash’s nasty voice.

Peter was sure every time this dude spoke, he could feel his blood boil in frustration. He even struggled to keep a straight face.

“What’s up?” Flash tried, but it sounded awfully fake.

MJ glared at him and spit, “Why’re you here, Flash?”

“Just trying to start a friendly conversation. Jeez.”

A big guy in a football jacket whispered something in Flash’s ear. Peter heard some parts of it even though he desperately didn’t want to: Why are we talking to these losers again?

He sent MJ a look when Flash laughed, and she mouthed a Guy’s crazy about us. He had to smile at how she managed to bring some humor into the situation.

“As you probably know, my friend Tiny is hosting a party tonight,” Flash said as he turned back to them.

Oh boy. Had he seriously come to convince them, force them to join the party? Just so he had something to make fun of? Make a joke out of them?

“It’s gonna be lit. You three should come. Invite Harry too, unless he’s too sick or whatever. Don’t really care.” Flash took a pause to cast Peter a poisonous glance, “You’re probably too innocent and young and stuff for the drinks, but, you know.”

Quiet snickers came from the girl and boy around Flash.

“You do realize you’re the same age as us, right?” MJ fired coldly at him.

Peter had to hold back a laugh at that, but his lips stretched into a small smile at Flash’s reaction: he froze, but did nothing except from changing the subject. Ouchie, did MJ hurt your feelings, Flash? Touché.

“Eight o’clock tonight. Can’t wait to see you three’s pathetic dancing moves,” Flash said, and Peter was starting to wonder if this guy really knew how to do a proper burn.

“We’re good on our own, thanks,” Ned insisted.

“Eight o’clock,” Flash repeated as if he hadn’t even heard Ned. Peter looked up at him from Ned, eyes drilling into his.

“Got anything to say, Parker? I mean, you're coming too, aren't you?”

Fuck off, he wanted to throw into his face. Leave us alone. After all, Flash wasn't that crazy about him, was he? Did he really feel the need to bother him all the time? If he could, he’d mess up his pretty face like he messed up his head, but how in the world could he do that and keep his secret identity safe? 

“Actually, we’ve got plans.” Peter said.

“What plans?”

“A, uh– A thing. Things, I mean. Plans. Family stuff. Homework.”

Real smooth, Parker.

“Sounds like the perfect time for a party.” Peter could barely keep himself sitting still and tried again, this time thankfully without faltering. “We’re busy. Maybe next time.”

“Oh, come on. You gotta stop disappointing me, guys.”

“I think you’d be just fine without us, Flash. Don’t you think?” MJ gave him a forced smile. “Now would you be so kind and please excuse us? You know, leave?” 

Flash ignored MJ. Clearly, he was just looking for trouble and whatever satisfaction he got by messing with them.

Suddenly all emotion seemed to have drained from the bully’s face, and he leaned into Peter so he could whisper into his ear. Peter had never felt so uncomfortable in his life and didn’t doubt that it showed. 

“You better make sure you and your little cheerleader gang is there, Parker. That may sound as a threat... and honestly, it is.” 

Peter couldn’t believe what he had heard. Was Flash threatening him? Was he threatening Spider-Man? As he realized an amused smile was forming on his face, he quickly washed it off and pretended to have heard the worst news he’d ever heard in his entire life. 

Flash leaned back and straightened himself, the same, disgusting smile on his face. “I‘ll see you guys there, won’t I? Eight o’clock, Tiny’s place!” He turned around with his small fan group and yelled after them as he left their table.

Well, wasn’t this just splendid? If he didn’t want to be thrown up against the lockers on Monday morning, he had to be at the party long enough for Flash to see him. 

Way to ruin a weekend.

Chapter Text

STARK INTERNSHIP

CHAPTER 2: Don't be fancy, just get dancy

WHEN SCHOOL finally ended, Peter rounded a corner and put on his Spider-man suit and dialed aunt May’s number. He figured that webbing his way home would be much quicker than taking the subway, and he got to be in the suit at least once today. 

As he told his aunt that he was attending a party tonight, her answer wasn’t quite what he had expected.

“You love Paul McCartney? What?” Aunt May said over the phone. Peter repeated what he had just said and May said, “Oh, a party.” Still, she sounded a little distant, and Peter suspected that she was actually really busy at the hospital and wanted the conversation to be quick. 

“Right,” Peter bit his bottom lip and shot out a web, swinging upwards and landing on top of a building.

“Alright, as long as you go with Ned and Michelle. Is Gwen coming too? Also, you know I don’t like you out alone late. You know, there's lots of dangerous people on the streets, you never know who—”

“May, I’m seventeen. Almost eighteen,” Peter interrupted, feeling the embarrassment burn on his cheeks underneath his mask.

“Okay, okay. But you have to be back by eleven.”

“May!” Peter almost shouted. A man down at the streets looked confusedly up at him. But seriously, though? He was going to a party for the first time since Liz, so he was definitely not going to be one of the first people to leave.

“What? You heard me! Back by eleven,” May repeated.

“Seriously?” Peter exclaimed. “This is a historical event. History doesn't have a curfew.”

There was a short moment of silence.

“Back by eleven thirty.”

Although it was only half an hour extra, Peter smiled wide in victory underneath the mask, thanked her, and then she had to go and listen to someone complain about how much pain they were in.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

As Peter climbed through the window of his apartment and into his room, he tucked the Spider-Man suit underneath his bed and almost immediately got to studying. He ended up sitting non-stop with his textbook for two hours, trying to understand what he was reading through.

It was one of those rare evenings where his motivation for school work was at it-shirt highest (probably because he did most certainly not want to fail), which was great, and he had a feeling he might rock this test.  

Peter looked at his watch. It showed 5:03 p.m., meaning it was more than two hours until Ned would be here to pick him up. He had insisted on driving, because meanwhile Peter had been busy fighting crime, Ned had actually gotten himself a teen driver’s license.

He had agreed to pick up MJ first so Peter could get more time to study on, but in reality, Peter has planned to use The extra time swinging around in Queens. Who knows, maybe he would stop some robbers or a car thief on the short period of time— or something actually exciting would happen.

He pulled out the suit from underneath his bed. Holding it with two hands, he noticed how dirty it had already gotten. Upon closer inspection, he perceived a couple of bloodstained marks and cuts on it as well, and fuck, it smelled. How had he not noticed this before? Now he could definetly scratch his plans of checking out the city for the next hour. It smelled horrible, like it had been worn by a corpse shitting themselves to death.

Okay, maybe not that bad.

But it was bad enough. However, if he was going to get at least thirty minutes outside, he had to wash it now. The teenager quickly huddled together some dirty clothes lying on the floor, as well as the suit, and hurried to the bathroom to stuff them into the washing machine. It was almost right on time with aunt May entering their home.

“Hi, honey,” she greeted with a smile. Peter quickly threw the clothes in the machine, backed into room and spun around in the desk chair so he could see her properly. She was wearing her work uniform, still. 

“Hey, May,” he returned. 

Ever since Peter had become Spider-Man,  he had had to deal with all kinds of injuries, some worse than the other. Not that it was a big problem, because, hey– they healed! But lying to aunt May and saying that he had fallen on his skateboard, or that Steve from Brooklyn had hit him again every time she noticed a bruise or a scar he hadn’t hidden well enough instead of telling the truth, wasn’t always easy, and Peter knew that she didn’t always believe him.

However, when things got gravely bad, May would just stare at him like he was some helpless puppy and ask him who was doing this to him. Of course he didn’t tell her the truth, because he just simply couldn’t, so he left her to worry even more.

And despite that he, strangely enough, had gotten somewhat used to it, he hated throwing lies in her face.

“How was your day? Good?”

Peter nodded, fingers playing with his pencil.

Aunt May gave him a confused look as she pointed at the loud, old beast of a washing machine that was going on and on in the bathroom. “Are you washing something?” 

The teen swallowed. “Yeah... party, remember?” 

“Right.” She nodded. “I’m going out tonight, so I’m just gonna put a pizza in the oven for you. Is that alright?” 

Peter nodded again, frowning as he gave her sentence more thought and spoke again before she got the chance to leave the room, “Wait- going out, as in dinner?”

Aunt May dropped her hands to her thighs, a large grin beaming on her face. She lit up with both excitement and pride. “Yeah, dinner!” She exclaimed. “‘Cause amazingly, I’m having a meal for once with a member of the male gender who’s above the age of 17.”

Peter rolled his eyes at her statement, though he was genuinely happy for her.

Her face expression changed, and she then looked at him with those sad, intense I-am-worried-about-you eyes and said, “So, your plans, then?”

“Well, uh, I’m leaving in a bit. Just gotta wash a shirt.” It surprised him how easy he could lie to her without showing any signs of doing so. It felt so... natural. “And then, I guess I’m just have some fun with MJ and Ned, and, uh, come home. And then go to bed. Study,” Peter informed with a shrug. They hadn’t really planned anything else than going to the party.

She nodded and leaned against the doorway. “Okay, that’s good. We don’t need to have that chat about alcohol, do we?”

“May, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had alcohol,” Peter said and scratched the back of his head, immediately regretting spilling the words because of how she reacted.

“Peter!” She almost shouted, causing him to jerk back in to chair in surprise. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? Drinking? When you’re only seventeen?”

May’s eyes were wide, and it was obvious she was both disappointed and mad at him. It was insane how quickly her moods could change.

“Well… didn’t you?” He tried, slowly sinking back in his chair. His response seemed to have taken her aback, because she seemed to be struggling to find the right words.

“You know what,” Aunt May pointed towards the direction of where her bedroom was. “That’s enough parenting for one day. I’ll go and get dressed.”

Peter chuckled in amusement before he turned to the next page of the textbook.

About an hour later, he hung up the Spider-Man suit smelling clean and fresh of lavender by his window so it could dry. He got some slices of burnt pizza into his system, studied some more, got a nice outfit for the party out before he stuffed it into a backpack, yelled goodbye to aunt May, - even though she was in the shower and probably couldn’t hear her, - and swung out of his bedroom.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Tiny McKeever lived in a mansion with the neighborhood’s richest parents. His parents were so disgustingly rich that, according to rumors, they bought an entire five-stars hotel for themselves to stay at for the weekend, just so they didn’t have to be a bother for the party. Peter didn’t even think they had jobs like any other adults with the amount of money they had. Tiny’s mansion consisted of hundreds upon hundreds of rooms, and that motherfucker even had a gigantic swimming pool– with an island.

When Peter, Ned and MJ arrived, the party was already at its highest. The music was so loud that it made Peter’s skin tingle and his lungs feel like mush. Neon lights flashed from every corner of the gigantic living room like police sirens, and people were talking and laughing and dancing everywhere.

As usual, Ned was wearing his party hat. Definitely a bummer at this kind of party. MJ was wearing a stylish pink top underneath her open dark jacket, a dark skirt and her curly brown hair tied up. To Peter’s surprise, she was even wearing a little makeup.

“Well, here we are,” MJ breathed. She didn’t even look the tiniest bit surprised.

“I need a drink,” Peter said over the loud bass, mostly because he wanted something to hold. Ned handed him one of the red party cups from the kitchen table full of a greenish liquid. He looked at it, then chugged it down in a matter of seconds.

“Way to go, dude,” Ned raised his brows at him. Yeah, well, he wasn’t leaving this party without drinking anything, and now he could scratch that off his list.

Peter placed the empty cup on the table nearby and made a grimace out of pure disgust and coughed. This was definitely one of the strongest drinks he had ever had— and he wasn’t much of a drinker in the first place. Hell, he was underage!

His entire mouth was exploding upon exploding with the sour and vile taste. The taste was still burning in his throat when he reached for another cup and held it out to Ned, croaking out a, “Your turn. Literally tastes like hell.”

“Sounds delightful, but I’ll pass,” Ned showed the cup away from him. “Besides, I’m driving back, remember?”

Peter pushed the cup in MJ’s direction. She hesitated for a second, but accepted it.

“I can't believe I’m doing this.”

When she was drinking it, it looked like she was about to spit it all out on the nearest person, which was Peter. To his big relief she didn’t; instead finishing the drink and exhaling deeply. 

“Jesus,” she spat. “What’s in these?”

Peter just shook his head and grinned.

An hour later, the three of them were slumped up against a yellow couch and two identical armchairs that had been pushed to the side of the open-plan living room slash kitchen to make room for a dance floor in the center. Both Peter and MJ had taken another drink each, except for Ned, who was still insisting on driving home. 

Peter was sinking further and further into the soft armchair, and he began to wonder if he was actually sinking into quicksand, or if it was simply the fact that he was becoming less and less aware of what was going on. Thank you very much, alcohol.

“Why don't I have a nickname?” MJ suddenly asked. Peter looked confusedly at her. “I mean, Ned’s the Guy in the Chair, right?”

“Well, you don't exactly help out much with Spidey, do you?” Ned was quick to answer.

“Well, let’s change that, then! You guys obviously need me.” She bursted out. Peter let out little scoff, obviously not so convinced. When did she suddenly get such an interest for Spider-Man, anyway?

While Ned and MJ were discussing the topic, Peter closed his eyes for a moment. Man, he could really use a glass of water right now. The room was super hot, despite the doors that stood wide open. Another disadvantage of having enhanced senses. 

Looking towards where the music was playing, Peter saw Flash standing by what looked like a big DJ table. It didn’t surprise him the least that Flash was taking his freedom to be in control of the music. 

Suddenly their gazes met, and the bully was quick with a poisonous smirk.

“GIVE ME A P!” He suddenly yelled, not once looking away from Peter, and the dancing teens responded, “P!” then he said, “GIVE ME AN E!” and the crowd responded, “E!” and then he said, “GIVE ME AN N!” and the crowd responded, “N!” He went on like that until the crowd was yelling and shouting Penis Parker.

Penis.

Parker. 

Peter gave out a sigh of annoyance. If he could, he would go over to the bully and give him a reversed donkey punch in the face. He wanted to do that surprisingly often in his life. And once he had started, he might as well blow the shit out of him, just to give him a taste of what he was going through because of him. But he acted like he didn’t care, didn’t mind it, in hope of Flash to just stop.

After all, there wasn’t much Peter Parker could do now without causing suspicion, was there?

“By the way, Peter, have you heard anything about the application?” Ned asked. 

Oh, yeah. The internship. He had applied for Stark Industries a few weeks ago— there had been a huge article about it in the newspaper. Perhaps it was stupid of him and too risky to apply for an internship at Stark Industries; it was Iron Man, one of the smartest men to ever have lived’s company, there was no doubt he would find out about his identity if he got the chance. but it was a good way he would be able to help out with aunt May’s endless bills.

Oscorp was out of the picture, and the Spider-Man pictures he was selling to the Daily Bugle weren’t paying off. Not to brag, but it was also somewhere he could finally use his intelligence somewhere other than at school.

And the payment was good. What did he have to lose? It wasn’t like Tony Stark was going to be around anyways; Peter would most likely be working in a laboratory or a workshop of some sort. As long as he didn’t awaken any suspiciousness, he was good.

That was, if he got the job.

All he had to do now was wait, wait and find our if he was one of the few that were interesting to Stark Industries who would be going up for interviews. 

As far as Peter knew, more than a hundred people had applied already in the first few days. He wouldn’t be surprised if the company had already found their golden intern, the lucky bastard who would work there part-time for as long as the company deemed necessary, until they perhaps were to be offered a full-time job.

As it had been weeks since he had applied and hadn’t gotten a letter yet, he was starting to lose faith he had even made it to round two. But who was he kidding? What was he hoping for? He was a school student! Most people applying were probably MIT geniuses.

Peter sighed. ”Still nothing yet.”

MJ looked skeptical. “I know I’ve said it before, but is it really that smart to apply for a job where you’ll work underneath the nose of Tony Stark, who is a notorious jerk by the way, unless you want people to find out about your alter ego?”

“I can't argue with you about Tony Stark, but hey– it’s fine! I need the money. May’s the one who saw it in the paper, and you know what she’s like.” Peter said, giving her a playful smirk at the end of his sentence. She rolled her eyes.

“You know, sometimes you’re a real moron.”

“Well, I don't know about that.”

She glared at him for a second, then gave him a devilish smile. “Yeah, you’re right. You're a complete idiot.” Peter’s smile faded before it widened even more and he gave her a light shove.

 
⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“I just don't understand why it takes so long,” Ned was complaining about how long it took for Star Wars: Episode IX to come out in the theaters. His tone made it actually seem like he was drunk, even though he most definietly wasn’t; unless it was possible to high on Red Bull and Coke. 

“Because they need time to make the movies, man,” Peter murmured half-distracted by the awkward moves Flash was doing. For such a good bully and athlete, the dude was an awful dancer.

“Once the first movie is out, you gotta wait two years for the second. It’s bullshit,” Ned continued to whine.

“Real torture.” Peter respoused. He looked over at MJ, who was busy with her cell phone.

“They’re torturing us on purpose!” Ned added, sounding like a child throwing a tantrum.

Peter’s gaze drifted from Ned back to MJ, who suddenly stood up. “Get up,” she said to him and Ned, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. Part of Peter wanted to protest, because he was seriously sitting really comfortable in this chair.

“Are we leaving?” Ned asked.

“No, but we can't just sit here and be miserable. It’s depressing. Come on, let’s go dance.” She said.

Oh no. Dance?

Peter’s heart dropped into his stomach.

She couldn’t be serious.

“I can't dance,” Peter tried, but it didn't seem to help.

“Doesn't matter! Come on.”

Peter looked at Ned for help to convince MJ not to, because there was no way Peter was showing MJ his moves without even practicing for a good five minutes first. But oh no, Ned didn't even look at him when he dragged himself up from the couch, and Peter thought he was actually going to dance, but he then said, “You guys go ahead. I gotta go to the toilet.”

What an escape. 

Peter thought about it for a moment. There was no way he was getting out of this. Aunt May had taught him some moves, yes, but that was only one time and two whole years ago. But whoever made up stupid sayings said that the way your weekend starts, is how it's gonna continue. And he would much rather spend a weekend dancing than falling asleep in an armchair, so he got up.

The room swayed more than he was expecting before righting itself, a combination of the drinks he had had and the heat being put out by way too many people in a living room. MJ started to lead him towards the dancing floor, but took a right so they were headed outside to the enormous pool and garden instead.

“Wow-wow, wait, where are we going?” Peter said, almost coming to a stop.

“Did you really think I was gonna let you dance in there, with Flash and a thousand drunk teenagers? Nope. Plus, the music is way better out here.” She formed a small smile. Peter wished he could take a picture of her smiling, just this exact moment, because MJ almost never smiled, but his arms had gone numb so he stayed in the moment instead.

She reached for his hand and pulled him towards the short-cut grass garden. Even though the autumn air barely was colder than the inside of the house, it cleared the muggy, muddled heat off Peter. He wasn’t sure if he could have handled the heat much longer if it hadn't been for the cold wind.

But she was right. The music was better out here. Flash was currently playing Freaking Out by Flo Rida and StayC Reign. He could hear the music in the distance, but the sound of the loud bass was long gone. It was surprisingly nice.

MJ started to dance, but not in a calm way; more of a crazy, dancing-like-a-fool way. Her dance moves got more and more crazy, and as a large smile spread on Peter’s face, he adjusted awkwardly to the crane of his black shirt, let go and did the same.

Screw everybody else’s opinions. No one was looking at them. The school bully couldn’t see him. He was free.

“Yeah! You go, Peter!” He was surprised when her lips stretched into a wide grin and she laughed. She laughed. And not only that, but she laughed and smiled at the same time. Who was this person, and what had they done to MJ?

Peter’s must’ve stopped and stared, because suddenly she wasn’t just staring at him with a frown. “What?”

“Did you just... did I hear that correctly? Did you just laugh? Are you sure you’re MJ and not an alien who’s taken over her body?”

MJ laughed at that too. “Shut up.”  

Smile growing bigger, he dared himself to move even closer to her. He was practically breathing down on her face now.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before.” 

She sighed, almost embarrassed. 

”Don’t get me wrong,” Peter added. “I like your laugh. It’s cute. God, please laugh more often.” 

MJ didn’t respond to that. Instead came a silence over them as they slowdanced, but it wasn’t awkward, nor did he feel the need to speak up once every tenth second. He wanted to stay in the moment. 

“You’re such a liar,” she suddenly said, looking up at him. Peter felt his neck redden, and he was warm again, but with embarrassment this time, because what on earth had he lied about? Don’t ruin the moment, don’t ruin the moment...

“What?” He asked.

“You said you can't dance, but you dance like a pro.”

Peter’s gaze fell to the ground. He chuckled, then looked back at her, and was met by her brown eyes awaiting a response.

“Well, I guess I can blame Spider-Man for that,” he replied. “I’ve also spent the last ten years breakdancing and doing ballet.”

“No shit. Seriously?” She raised her brows, obviously surprised.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

MJ giggled and opened her mouth. “Asshole.” She gave him a light push.

Smirking, Peter felt the hairs on his arms rise, and before he knew it, MJ was taking a step back before launching herself towards him and pushing him into the pool. He didn’t even have time to think before it was too late.

The refreshing, cold water surrounded him all at once before he kicked off the floor and swam up to break the surface. She really was something for herself; pushing him into the pool like this. Hopefully, aunt May wouldn’t get too flustered about him coming home all wet, and Ned not too upset about wetting his mom’s car. But that wasn’t the most important thing swirling through his mind right now.

MJ was.

He used a hand to pull back the loose curls of his chocolate brown hair that had plastered onto his forehead, and looked up at MJ from the water pool with an exaggarated shocked expression. It didn’t last long, as he was unable to hold it and a large smile took control over his face.

“Michelle Jones! You…” He began and hurried through the water towards her. She was going to pay for this, that was for sure. Adrenaline and playfulness coursed through his veins as he went for her.

“No no no no!” She giggled, “Peter!”

Yes, yes, yes, yes, this was payback. There was no escape.

He grabbed her by her arm and pulled her into the water with him, and she squealed and sent droplets splashing everywhere when she hit the liquid. She splashed waves of water at him, and Peter returned them with a broad smile. For twenty more minutes, he managed to push his worries aside.

Chapter Text

STARK INTERNSHIP

CHAPTER 3: The Arms Dealers

“WHAT COLLEGE are you going to?” MJ asked. They were sitting against the edge of the pool with the green pool lights glowing in the water. The gentle waves brushed against Peter’s shoulders as he looked around, silently noting to himself that he had to buy a new phone. The one in his pocket was a goner.

“No idea. May’s all crazy about it, though,” he answered. “She keeps asking me about the Stark Internship.” He grinned.

“Shit. Yeah. I get it. Parents can be a handful,” she replied while moving her hand through the water. “I’m probably going to Bramson or something. Or The one in North Carolina.”

Peter turned so he could see her properly. “North Carolina?” he repeated. He felt like he had been punched in the throat. “That... that’s far away.” It wasn’t only far away, it was very far away. Would he still be able to see her? A sudden wave of panic washed over him.

“Yeah,” she said firmly. “But my dad wants me to go to Bramson, so that’s probably where I’ll be going.”

Peter leaned back again, more relaxed. “I love how we’re talking about school on a Friday night.” MJ let out a laugh.

His gaze drew towards the house as Flash changed song to Lose Yourself to Dance and the whole party erupted in applause.

He looked back at MJ. “Speaking of school, I absolutely nailed the chemistry test last week, even though I only studied for half a day.”

“Dude, really? You’re crazy,” she laughed.

“Full pott.” He grinned widely.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah!” he blurred out. “Well, I mean— almost… I forgot to put on my name, ‘s all.” He mumbled the last part because, honestly Peter, how does one even forget that?

MJ suddenly sat up a little straighter. “What? Did I hear that correctly?” A big, cocky smile crossed her face before she hid it with a hand, bubbling with laughter that bounced across the whole garden. Peter felt his cheeks redden.

“Are you done?” He asked after what felt like an eternity.

MJ struggled to breathe between her now silent laughers. “You… you…” She didn't even finish her sentence before she began to giggle again. “Oh, man! This is just sad!”

“Oh, screw you,” Peter whined and splashed water in her face.

“Language, mister.”

“I hate you,” he went on, though his voice sounded very unconvincing. “I do! You're worse than JJJ.” He tried to wipe off the smile on his face to make his acting seem more realistic, but it wasn't helping. She obviously wasn't buying it.

“Oh, please. You wouldn't last a day without me. You love me.”

Peter figured it was best to give up, because if there was one fight he would always lose, it was an argument with MJ.

Peter leaned back against the side of the swimming pool in retreat, shaking his head and laughing lightheartedly.

Perhaps it was true: he probably wouldn't last long without her. No offense to Ned, but his life was much more exciting with MJ around.

He eyed her as she continued to draw her hand through the water, his vision very foggy– another thanks to the alcohol. Cheers. Man, he was never drinking more than one cup again, especially something he didn't know what was. Scratch that, he was never drinking anything ever again. For all he knew, it could have been some hard liquor. It probably was, because MJ did not seem sober at all.

When Ned finally walked up to them, Peter just glared at him with glassy eyes that mirrored how drunk he was at this point. Almost twenty minutes. That was how long Ned had spent in the bathroom. Maybe more. Probably more. He was only guessing, as he hadn't exactly been counting.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Ned asked as he looked down at them in the pool, holding his party hat in his left hand.

MJ straightened herself to look at Ned. “What the hell were you doing in the bathroom for so long?” she fired back. She quickly added, “Actually, don't tell me. I don't even wanna know.”

Ned rolled his eyes. “The line was long, and it took me some time to figure out their creepy-but-very-fancy toilet.” Peter was obviously amused by how defensive he was being.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck rose and his Spidey Sense was banging wildly in the back of his skull— something was off. Something was happening. Something was definitely happening. He looked towards the other houses in the neighborhood as a frown formed on his face. But what?

“You okay, Pete?” MJ inquired. “What's wrong?”

And there it was. Like his cue to get out of here, a faint sound of police sirens wailed in the far distance and broke the silence. He didn’t hesitate. Pulling himself up from the pool, Peter shot a glance at his friends, and although their gazes looked worried and he didn’t want to miss out on even a second with MJ, he knew he had to leave.

“Go!” Ned reminded him. Peter gave MJ one final look, who didn’t say anything but just looked at him like a deer in highlights. Without second thought, he jumped over the large fence and shot a web up at the street light, then another one, until he landed behind a corner with a couple of dumpsters where he had put his bag earlier on. He undressed himself quickly to reveal the soaked Spider-Man suit.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

As Peter was swinging through the city, he could already hear explosions and guns being fired in the far distance. His hair was still damp under the mask, and he had a feeling he would look like a crazy scientist the moment he took it off. He had a light headache caused by all the alcohol, but he figured it would go away soon enough.

Excitement bubbled through his veins as he fired out a web and swung upwards, and with ease releasing his grip on the web, falling into a perfect dive down towards the streets before shooting out another web. He would never get tired of this part of being Spider-Man. The way his stomach dropped at the fall and the wind rushing against him– there was no feeling like it.

He was following the train of police cars when he suddenly saw a bright green light beam up from the tree tops to his right in the corner of his eyes, then vanishing.

“What the hell?” He mumbled to himself, eyeing the tree tops suspiciously in the midnight light. The beams were oddly familiar to the ones Toomes’s people had been using, only a different color.

Probably nothing, he mused to himself, but oh no. The moment he looked ahead to make sure he didn't crash into the wall of a building, the same hue of green lit up around the trees so brightly he could almost see them as if they stood in broad daylight. Then the light was gone again.

Okay, now Peter was getting curious. Looking back ahead, he hesitantly figured the police had this under control, or at least could handle the situation for a good ten minutes without him, and changed his direction towards the forest. If it actually was something, it was better to check it out than to let it be.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“...Look at this, man.” A deep voice said as Peter landed behind a large, abandoned tunnel-like bridge. He shielded his face at the large explosion of green light and gray smoke, followed by a loud “woohoo!” from one of the people on the other side of the bridge.

As the stone bridge was crumbling by his grip, Peter figured that was what they were shooting at. Peeking his head over the side of the wall, he saw a white van through the light smoke, as well as three middle-aged men and a woman around the same age. The woman was leaning against the van with her arms crossed, while the two men were the ones making all the noise. One of them were holding what looked like a futuristic shotgun with green light glowing from its mouth.

Suddenly a thought hit Peter: was this a gun trade?

"Pretty neat, huh? This is what ya get when ya combine alien tech with Stark guns. Inspired by Toomes, I gotta say."

Wait, as in Stark Industries? As in Tony Stark? And alien tech as in the incident in New York many years ago? Peter furrowed his brows. After Toomes, he thought there was nothing left of that. Hadn’t Tony Stark’s people taken care of it?

He had to get a closer look.

“Where did you even get this tech? It looks weird.”

“Are ya not listenin’? It’s alien. Got plenty of it from Toomes’ people. Or well, what’s left of what they got. Gotta feel bad for those guys, ya know. Stark people came and confiscated the whole area after they got busted. Those suckers.”

“Damn. Hey— what ‘bout the guns? Stark weapons are rare. It’s impossible to get ahold of ‘em anymore.”

“What’s up with all these bloody questions, man? Are you buying or not?”

“I don’t know, dude. I was looking for something a bit more casual.”

“You contact the only ones selling high-tech weapons like these and tell me you want something casual? Seriously, man? Might’ve as well gone to a normal weapon store.”

There was a short pause.

“What exactly are ya gonna use the weapon for, anyways?”

“That’s none of your business. How’s that one?”

Peter could hear them walking further away and the sounds of shuffling through heavy machinery. Best guess was that the arms dealers had more weapons loaded in the car, which was bad news. How had they even gotten Stark Industries weapons in the first place? He thought that man didn’t sell anything other than fancy smartphones and cool technology.

“Oh, this one? Shoots through anything. Like a laser. The more ya charge, the bigger the blast. Not that damn useful in combat because, you know, it’s fucking hard to aim with up close, but good for robbing mini banks if that’s what ‘ya into.”

Peter stood straight against the side of the bridge, listening to the conversation. He was waiting for the right moment to jump in when his phone of course just had to ring.

Hell, he thought his cheap phone was ruined after MJ had pushed him into the pool. The sound of the ringing was terrible, though— but who would be calling him at this hour, anyways? MJ and Ned knew he was busy.

“No, no, no,” Peter whispered to himself.

“What was that? Dude, did you set me up?”

He hurriedly pulled up his phone from the pocket of his suit and answered the phone call. “I can’t talk right now,” he whispered, heart drumming in his chest as he could hear footsteps nearing him.

“Wait, Peter, where are y-“ It was May’s voice, but he knew he had to hang up, as the two guys were too close and could spot him any moment. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he jumped in front of the two guys to their big surprise.

“Hey, fellas! You know there’s other ways to make money, like selling hot dogs? You know, getting an actual job?”

“Abort!” Baldy said and took a step back, “Someone must’ve ratted on us!”

The two of them began to run towards the van, but Peter was faster and punched the blond-haired man into the stone wall and fired a web at Baldy’s legs, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground, the gun falling out of his grip. He could already hear the motor of the van starting behind him, so it was best to make this quick so they wouldn’t get away.

Blondie pulled out a knife from the pocket of his long jacket and slowly rose to his legs. There was something about the serious look on his face, the determination, that made Peter smile under the mask. “A knife. Really?” Peter mocked. The man just shook his head. “What's up with you, Spider-Man? Can't you mind your own damn business?”

“It’s Spider-Cop,” Peter replied as Blondie launched towards him, but he dodged the swing of the knife. He kicked it out of his grip and webbed the man’s arm to the wall.

“Just joking. Although it would be pretty cool, dontcha think?”

Another web, this time so his other hand stuck to the wall. The man groaned loudly. “And nope. Stopping crime is my—”

His Spidey Sense went off for a split second, Weapon pointed at you, 6’o clock sharp. Danger, danger, danger.

Peter turned around to see Baldy with the large, strange gun in his hands, directly pointing it at him. A low, increasing hiss sounded from the high-tech weapon, and despite that time seemed to have slowed around Peter, he stood frozen on the ground as if his feet were tied to the ground like roots.

He failed to dodge the blast from the weapon. His body didn’t respond, he couldn’t think, only stand and watch it happen.

Green light beamed out of the gun’s mouth, the laser harshly burning into the upper left side of his abdomen and blast sending him flying through the air and hard into a tree. 

“Come on, let’s go! Now!”

Peter heard the faint sounds of a car door being slammed shut and tires screeching against the asphalt. They sounded like echoes in his head... his aching head.

Pure pain throbbed in his left abdomen like nothing he’d ever felt before. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and he searched for the courage to look at where he had been shot. Shot. There wasn’t an actual bullet, was there? No.

Peter finally found the courage to gaze down at the damage. What he saw made his heart double its pace.

His suit, - his beautiful suit he had spent hours on and was constantly fixing, and had just washed, - had been burnt up around his upper left abdomen, revealing a gooey, dark red blob, blood oozing from the deep wound. Small puffs of smoke was coming out of it and hell, it hurt. It hurt bad. If he thought the headache he had experienced earlier while swinging through the city was bad, this was a million times worse.

His hand clasped protectively tight to the wound; however that only made it worse and he had to let out a small cry of pain. He didn’t care how wimpy he sounded. There was no one here.

I gotta stop them, he thought, groaning harshly as he stumbled to his legs. His hands were shaking wildly— his whole body was shaking. 

What the hell was that?

Peter took a couple of steps forward and hurried his pace so he was jogging. I’m fine. All good. He was just about to fire a web when his abdomen sent a wave of pain through his veins like flames, sending him propelling to the ground with his face first. He felt like a thousand pounds of dynamite just exploded in his stomach, and he had to force himself not to yell. Based on how much his right eye throbbed, he had a feeling he was getting a nasty bruise today too.

He rolled onto his back. “Okay,” he breathed heavily. “Okay.”

He webbed his stomach so it would stop bleeding. It was good, it would work like some kind of band-aid. A horribly designed band-aid... but hey— it was better than nothing. 

He shakily stood again, almost losing his balance at the next step. Come on, Pete, he sneered to himself. Are you seriously gonna let a couple of morons get away?

He took another small step forward before shooting out a web at a street light and hauling himself up. I got this. Although his vision was cloudy, he managed to see the white van drive towards the highway. It wasn’t very far away. He could still do this. He could make it. He could stop the bad guys, like he always did.

Shooting out another web, then another one, and groaning every third second, Peter was getting closer and closer to the car, but the closer he was getting, the more his body was starting to give up on him. Swinging through trees and the street lights wasn’t something he was used to, but then again, despite all the crazy people he fought, he wasn’t used to being shot by a high-tech laser gun and slammed into a tree.

He shot a web at another city light but was met by an extreme jolt of pain in protest; losing the grip around the web and falling harshly onto the road. The pain was getting unbearable and his horrible designed band-aid was starting to worsen the wound. But blood was beginning to flow again, so he webbed it again, standing up and continuing to swing towards the van.

He couldn’t let them go, he was too close.

Shooting out a web and landing on top of the van, Peter had to grit his teeth at how insanely much his abdomen was protesting. Hell, he had to urge himself not to pass out.

“Woah!” He wailed as the driver of the car began to sick-sack on the road as an attempt to shake him off. Peter struggled to keep himself on, but had fallen too many times already and was determined to not let it happen again.

But okay, now he was definitely painting the car red. The motor of the old van roared as the car took a turn and the tires screeched loudly, but miraculously, Peter was still holding tight. He yelled in surprise as a green beam shot through the roof by Peter’s face, missing him but creating a large hole so he could see the woman and man properly.

“Hello,” Peter stuck his head through. “I believe we haven’t…” He was heaving for his breaths, “ met properly—“ As soon as Baldy spotted him, the man grumbled loudly and swung the gun for him.

“Okay, I guess you’re a little cranky today, huh?” Peter said, dodging the gun and moving his head back up. The pain was starting to become unbearable and his breaths were more ragged. He had to hurry up with this.

Shooting out a web to the passenger door, Peter pupped the door off and it fell to the ground, tumbling away like a snowball. He yanked the weapon out of Baldy’s grip and threw him out of the car as well, leaving only him to deal with the woman, Ponytail. 

“Sorry ‘bout the car,” Peter groaned and kicked her into the other door when she reached for her handgun, causing it to open and the woman to roll out on the road, the gun quick on her heels. The car slowly came to a stop as there no longer was pressure on the gas pedal.

As soon as the car stood completely still, Peter limped past it to see the figure of the man on the grass, the shattered weapon just a couple of meters away. Ponytail was on the road just a couple of meters away. Despite that they were bad guys, Peter was glad there was no sign of blood around them. As he moved forward to check them out, both Baldy and Ponytail were breathing, but unconscious.

After webbing both of the people to the car, Peter leaned against the side of the vehicle, hand clasping against his wound as he used his other hand to press the sensory patch beneath his right ear. It instantly connected him to Captain Stacy.

Although both Peter and Spider-Man had grown closer to the police captain over the years, Peter wasn’t so sure the man liked the fact that he was calling him past midnight.

“I’m waiting for the reason as to why you’re calling me at one a.m., Parker? On my day off?”

Yup. Just like he had anticipated.

“Sorry, Cap’n,” Peter attempted his best to sound like he was, in fact, not missing half of his stomach, and probably too much blood. He was heaving for his breaths and could barely even stand up at this point, and his voice was sore and raspy. He hoped he wasn’t giving it away, because people feeling sorry for him didn’t help the least.

“It’s Captain.” Captain Stacy corrected him.

“Huh?” Peter looked at the hand he was pressing against his wound. It was bloody, just like the rest of his suit. Man, how was he ever getting home looking like this? He hoped aunt May was still out eating dinner.

“You said Cap’n. Like Cap’n Crunch.”

Peter smiled despite the blazing pain he was going through. “All right, but to be fair, Cap’n Crunch was a war hero and the—“

“Please just get to the point.”

“Anyways, Cap-tain, I just stopped a couple of gun dealers at the outcast of Queens. Futuristic high-tech weapons... you name it. There’s a whole van here loaded with them. I think it could lead to their business. Should probably…” he made a raspy inhale. “check it out.”

“I’ll send a team.”

There was a short pause, and Peter could feel his eyelids getting heavier every second. His head fell.

“Are you alright, Peter?”

His head jolted up, eyes wide like his alarm clock had just gone off by his bedside. “What? Yeah, I’m all good. Couldn’t be better. All… all good. Amazing, in fact.”

“Okay… but please, just go home. You don’t sound so amazing.”

Peter swallowed. “I’m headed home. Say hi to Gwen for me.”

“Bye, Peter.”

Before he left, Peter grabbed one of the weapons that looked the least terrifying from the back of the car. It wasn’t wise of him, but he needed something to work with if he was going to bust these people later on.

He normally wouldn’t bring a high-tech weapon home, but considering that he was drunk on both alcohol and adrenaline, he barely hesitated. Usually, Peter would’ve used less than twent minutes to retrieve his backpack and get back to the apartment from here. But tonight, he spent almost an hour. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The moment Peter slipped through the window to his room, he went ahead and pulled himself out of his Spider-Man suit, biting his underlip hard so he didn’t accidentally scream to wake up the neighbors— or aunt May. Well, if she was home. He was taking zero chances. 

As soon as the suit was off, he could see the wound properly, and to be honest, it was nasty. Scratch that, it was horrifying to look at. The webbing has dissolved completely and the red liquid was starting to ooze out, again. Peter usually only got injuries like cuts and bruises, sometimes, but rarely, stab wounds. He could handle that. He had been getting bruises long before he had gotten his powers, so getting them with his suit on never bothered him. However, gunshots and these kind of wounds… Fuck, how he hated them.

Limping into the bathroom with his hand clasped tight against the damage, he grabbed a washcloth, a needle, a thread, a bottle of antiseptic liquid and a couple of painkillers from the drawers. Just before he leaned against the edge of the counter, he looked at himself in the mirror— messy hair, pale face and a large, blue bruise around his right eye. But no blood. His stomach was almost alien compared to his face, well, if it hadn’t been for the bruise.

Cursing underneath his breath as he quickly tore off a piece of suit that had come with the wound, Peter kept his jaw closed to keep himself from crying out in pain.

As soon as all the pieces of his suit were out, he pressed the wet washcloth against the damage, but immediately had to pull it away when extreme pain blazed through the wound. His hands were shaking and there was a blood taste in his mouth, probably by how many times he had bit his tongue already.

He placed it down again, quickly washing the wound while the pain stabbed him over and over. His efforts were rather futile as more blood kept pouring out the more he tried to clean it. He groaned lightly.

At least now he could see the wound properly. It was deep and raw, the edges jagged. And it was still bleeding. This would definitely take some time to stitch up.

The antiseptic liquid was the worst. As he soaked the washcloth with it and gently dabbed it over the large wound, he let out a loud groan, perhaps a bit too loud. But it hurt. It really hurt. The pain was exploding, burning new and raw.

He grabbed the needle and held the thread with his other hand, trying to thread the needle but his hands were shaking too violently. “Come on,” he urged himself.

Finally, the thread went through the hole of the needle and he looked down at the wound, examining it as blood continued to flow. Where in the world would he start sewing? The damage was gigantic. It wasn’t a cut, it had the shape of a large, deformed circle in his abdomen.

Not wasting any more time, Peter pushed the needle through his skin and on the thread until it tugged on the skin and it was firmly in place. He’d just have to sew around the edges. Although he wasn’t the best sewer in the world, he was undoubtedly used to patch himself up.

He grit his teeth at the sharp pain as he stabbed himself again and again, attempting his best to keep his hand steady.

The process was long. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, so the stitches were bad. Peter was sure he had used half of all the thread when only two stitches remained. Pushing the needle through another patch of skin, the suture was completed.

With a shaky sigh, he fixed the thread in pace and lifted his sticky, bloody hands away from the wound. As he looked at it, he had to admit it still looked incredibly disgusting and he had to keep himself from vomiting, not only by the wound but by the stench of sickness and blood that hung heavy in the air.

But at least the wound wasn’t bleeding anymore, right?

The thought of what had happened earlier lingered in his head as he grabbed a roll of bandage and medical tape. He pressed the paper over the wound, covering it up and taping it shut with the tape. Both of them were almost empty. Add that to the list of infinite things he’d have to pick up, as well as more spandex.

The last thing Peter did was take the pain meds and put on a clean t-shirt. As soon as he had washed his bloodstained hands and opened the window to clear out the air in the bathroom, he crouched down shakily and grabbed the suit that laid in the middle of his room. It wasn’t looking great at all; it was missing a large chump of spandex and was covered in stained crimson. But he figured it was time to fix it now anyways, considering that it was missing many other areas of spandex as well.

Grabbing the dirty washcloth too, Peter opened the door to his room and was just about to walk into the larger bathroom to run them all through the washing machine, when he saw a very angry-looking aunt May glaring straight at him. She wore a dark blue dress with her brown hair tied in a loose bun that now was falling down just below her shoulders.

But oh God.

Aunt May was home.

And she was staring right at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Oh, hi, May…” Peter began uncomfortably and hid the bundle of fabric behind his back. Could this get any worse? He hadn’t expected her to be home at this point with the whole “I’m going on a date, coming home late” thing. What time was it?

“I’d appreciate it if you actually answered my calls,” May said and walked towards him. Peter refused to meet her gaze. “Do you realize how worried I’ve been? How... how did you even get in?”

“Well, the party got pretty wild, you know—“

“Look at me, Peter,” she suddenly interrupted him.

“Can I just—“

“Peter Benjamin Parker, look at me!”

Peter swallowed and looked down at her. She had said his whole name. She had to be pretty pissed. However, the moment her gaze fixated on his bad eye and she moved her hand to her mouth, his gaze darted away.

“I was actually gonna wash some clothes, if you don’t mind.” He was about to walk past her, but aunt May blocked his path.

“Who did this to you? Huh? I tell you to come home at eleven thirty, and you come home almost three hours later? What happened?”

“It’s okay, May,” Peter assured her. He had to come up with an excuse... “I spilled some cola on a kid… they were pretty mad, and I was… mouthing off, you know. Next thing I know—“

“Who was it?” she broke in, moving her hand up to his bruise. He flinched away.

“It’s okay—“

“I want to know who it was! I will personally call their parents and I’m gonna go there and—“

Now it was Peter who interrupted.

“May, I said it was okay!”

She glared up at him. Peter didn’t know what to say. Before he knew it, aunt May wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, embracing him for a hug. Despite the burning pain in his stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of his aunt’s warmth.

Aunt May sighed. “God, you’re so cold, Pete.”

He chuckled lightly, still holding the fabric with one hand behind his back. 

"Okay, but I really gotta wash this," Peter said, holding the bundle of fabric consisting of his shirt, washcloth, and the suit hidden well in the middle, and walking into the bathroom as she let him go.

Would she ever get used to seeing him like this?

Chapter Text

 STARK INTERNSHIP

CHAPTER 4: No Medicine is Strong Enough

THE FIRST thing Peter wrote on his history test was his name. He had learned from last time’s mistake, to say the least. The questions were simple enough, who conquered who, who killed who, people who rose to power and abused it, ideologies, that kind of stuff. Although Peter had barely studied since Friday, he had a strong feeling he was going to nail this.

Halfway through the period, Peter realized that he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the constant throb throb ache ache that was blazing through the upper left part of his abdomen. He had used his last supply of painkillers to get a decent night of sleep, and had no idea how he was going to survive the rest of the school day if the pain continued on like this; it seemed fine just this morning. 

Sighing, he gave MJ a thumbs up, who had noticed his hands trembling violently and was looking at him with those big, brown, worried, but curious, puppy eyes. He wasn't planning on telling her about what had happened yesterday, but she always found out one way or another.

Five minutes later, Peter excuses himself from class so he could take a look at what was happening underneath the bandage. He hid in the bathroom, in the first empty stall there was. Sitting on the tank of the toilet, he rolled up his shirt and gently peeled back the edge of the bandage. His eyes widened at what he saw next, and he had to bring a hand to his face as a gag threatened to bring up his breakfast.

The wound was red, swollen and incredibly warm to the touch. His stitches made it look even more terrifying, and there was some light goo and blood slowly pouring out. 

It was infected. He knew it right away.  

Fuck. He gave a frustrated sigh and rested a hand on the wall. How was this possible? He was no doctor, but he had to admit he had done a pretty good job. He had kept it clean and sewn it together almost right after it had happened. He had changed the bandage frequently. Goddamnit.

How in the world was he going to fix this without any antibiotics? He had nothing. He knew he couldn’t ask aunt May either, because she wouldn’t order him something without knowing what it was for. She would also, without doubt, ask him why he was taking painkillers if she found them in his bathroom, then send him off to a doctor. He couldn’t do that. 

This day was certainly going to be tougher than he had anticipated. Obviously annoyed, he made his way back to class to finish the test.

Forty-five minutes later when the school bell finally and blessedly rang, MJ followed him out of class like a shadow. 

“Peter. Something happened on Friday, didn’t it?” she said as she reached up to him. 

He tried to act like he had no idea what she was talking about. “Nothing happened.” 

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I mean, it’s been obvious as hell in class. Let me see it.” 

Peter stopped, MJ standing in front of him with her arms crossed on her chest, waiting for an explanation. People weaved around them like they were a blood clot in the hallway’s artery.

“Fine,” he reluctantly replied, knowing damn well she wasn’t going to let the subject pass. “But not here.”

Peter led her into an abandoned classroom, closing the door behind her. She still seemed unimpressed. 

With a huff, he sat down on top of one of the desks and rolled up his shirt, peeling off the edge of the bandage and exposing his bare skin and the nasty injury.

MJ made a grimace at the sight of the infected wound, where the gunshot had ripped horrifyingly through his body. His heart fluttered at the way her fingers trailed at his abs, and she seemed to have forgotten why they were in here for a split second.

“That’s gross.” 

Peter scoffed. “You think?” 

MJ’s hand moved up to his bruised eye. Thanks to his efficient healing factor, it was nowhere as bad as it had been on Friday, at this point it was barely visible and only a mere memory of what had been. 

Peter flinched away as she touched a particular sore spot.

“Who did this to you?” She sounded awfully concerned.

“MJ…” Peter gave her a reassuring smile and tucked a straw of hair that was hanging loosely in her face, behind her ear. “Being Spider-Man, I’m not always gonna come out unharmed. Sometimes stuff like this happens. It’s part of the job.” 

She kept looking at him with pleading, wary eyes. “At least tell me you didn’t do the stitches yourself. They’re awful.”

“Hey!” Peter gave her shoulder a light push and laughed. He pulled down his shirt. “I’m doing my very best, thank you.” 

She smiled back, tugging on Peter’s shirtsleeve and leaning closer to him. Peter could feel her warm breath on his neck. He hoped she was going to lean even closer, but she didn't; instead she moved the back of her hand up to feel his forehead, almost instantly retrieving it. “God, you're burning up.” 

“Can I just say, it's super adorable how you're being so worried about me.” He smirked. “You're like a mama hen.” 

She chuckled and pulled back. “Yeah, I wouldn't have to be if you had some kind of medical backup or whatever. You should have told me about this.”

He sighed. “I thought I could take care of it.”

“Yeah, good job on that.” 

Peter smiled at her sarcastic response. The harm was bad, that was for sure, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. He hadn’t totally messed up yet. The wound was infected and he felt slightly feverish, so he wasn’t going to lie, some painkillers would do really good right now. That reminded him of something...

“Hey, you don’t happen to have any antibiotics, do you? Any painkillers, like Ibuprofen?” 

MJ seemed taken aback by his question. “You're not even on antibiotics right now?” She almost shouted, eyes wide in surprise. “Peter, now you definitely gotta go to a hospital!”

He interrupted her before she could continue. “Nu-uh-uh. You know I can’t do that.” 

“At least come over to my place after school? I’m pretty sure I’ve got some of that stuff you mentioned.” 

Peter gave her a nod. “Absolutely.” 

MJ put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself to her feet. She shook her head and muttered something having to do with idiot under her breath, which only made Peter’s smile widen in amusement. This had to be the third time she had said that to him, and he truly understood her point of view on the situation— but hey, could you really blame him? There had been times where he had come home way more damaged than this, but that was something MJ would never know of.

At 3:30 the same afternoon and the eight period bell rang, Peter felt the endorphins sizzle through his body, because he had successfully survived the school day without feeling like he was actually going to die. He hurried out of the crowded schoolyard to see MJ arrive in front of the steering wheel of an ancient black Toyota. He walked down the steps and opened the passenger door, seating himself in the car.  

Only ten minutes went by before they had arrived at MJ’s home. After her mother passed away five years ago, MJ’s father decided that they should move so it would be easier to move on. It was still a sore memory, as she always seemed to freeze whenever the subject came up. Peter didn’t blame her, he had a feeling of what she might be going through.

MJ unlocked the front door and let him inside, guiding him through their beautifully designed, modern house and to a bathroom. He stopped in the doorway and watched her search through the cabinets for the pills. After some digging, she had eventually gotten hold of some barely touched bottles of Tylenol and Ibuprofen, as well as half a bottle of antibiotics. 

“Here you go,” she said and handed him the items. “Not sure if the antibiotics are gonna help— they expired a year ago.” 

“A year?” Peter choked out. “If this makes me worse, I’m blaming you” he smiled. “Just kidding. Thank you, MJ. I appreciate it.” 

Downing double the dosage the bottles recommended, he stuffed the bottles into the pockets of his jacket. With every breath he took, fire pulsated in his abdomen and his consciousness ebbed, but now he could already feel the pain fading to become just bearable.

Only a few seconds later, the front door flew open and in entered who Peter assumed had to be MJ’s family. Peter and MJ exchanged looks before she skipped out of the room and he followed, only to see MJ’s dad and younger sister standing by the front door. 

“Hi, Michelle,” her dad greeted. He was tall, almost as tall as Peter, and was skinny in a way parentally aged people usually weren’t. 

“This is Peter,” MJ introduced him. He moved forward and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.” 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Peter.” Her dad said and firmly shook his hand.

“Is that so?” He couldn’t help but grin at that, and MJ shuffled awkwardly in the background. 

Mr. Jones nodded. “How’s it going?” 

“Alright.” 

“You’re joining us for dinner, I hope?” 

Peter looked at MJ for any help, but she just smiled and shrugged. He looked back at Mr. Jones. “Yeah. I mean, I guess?”

“Great. We’re having Carbonara.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Mr. Jones gave him a small smile before he and MJ’s sister hung up their jackets and disappeared further into the house. Peter glanced over at MJ and whispered, 

“What’s Carbonara?” 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After that delicious pasta dinner, MJ had offered to drive Peter home. He knew it was out of pity, because there was no chance in hell she would offer him that if it wasn’t for his injury. It was interesting to see the concerned side of her, but at the same time he hated how vulnerable it made him feel.

Donkeyboy’s “Ambitions” was playing on the radio, MJ seeming completely distracted with driving the car. Peter, on the other hand, was slightly antsy and couldn’t help himself as he eyed the girl’s sketchbook in the backseat of the car. A playful smirk playing on his lips, he reached for it.

He only got a good look at two honestly incredibly beautiful drawings before MJ yanked it out of his hands. 

“Hey!” He looked at her. MJ eyed him for a moment, and it almost seemed like his smile was contagious before she looked away with a light scoff. 

“Come on, MJ,” he groaned. “We both know you’re one hell of an artist.” 

She giggled and looked back at him, then at the road. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll show you them someday. It will be like my Spider-Man, you know? Like how I didn’t know about that part of your life at first.” 

Peter had to laugh at that, although he couldn’t quite see the connection between them. “Alright, alright. Fine.”

As the two of them exchanged looks again, Peter couldn’t help but let another round of laugher bubble up his throat, and then suddenly they were both chatting and roaring with laughter the two minutes that remained before they pulled up in front of his home. 

Peter winced slightly at the pain that exploded in his stomach as he pulled off the seatbelt, the nausea hot in his throat. His metabolism burned through the painkillers incredibly fast, so he found himself swallowing pills left and right. However, he wasn’t going to use them all in one day, and certainly not in front of a girl he liked. 

“Hey,” MJ began, brows drawn together in concern. “Are you in pain?” 

Yes, he thought. It hurt, it hurt like hell. Instead of admitting it because he didn’t want her to worry, he just shook his head, chuckling. “No. I’m okay.”

MJ put the car in park and clicked off the radio, then looked at him.

Peter looked back at her with a smile that slowly faltered. It was dark outside, but she looked as beautiful now as she did in broad daylight. Her dark curls hung loose over her shoulders, and she was wore a nice, yellow top with a band logo he didn't recognize. She wore makeup. She looked amazing. She was amazing. 

Was she thinking about kissing him? 

Peter was definitely thinking about kissing her. 

“Well, you go and rest, yeah?” She suddenly said and looked away, breaking the intense silence between them. It was obvious there was a small tease lingering there. 

Peter tittered to hide his disappointment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, MJ.” He opened the passenger door and rose to his feet. “Thanks for helping me out.” 

“Yeah. I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?” 

Friends. 

So that’s what they were. 

“Friends.” Peter repeated. It felt like all air had been punched out of his lungs. 

“Friends.” MJ grinned. Peter forced a smile back. 

“Bye, MJ.” 

He slammed the car door shut and walked down the street up to the big apartments building where he lived. The cold was a big shock, but it was fresh, so it felt nice. The car’s tiles screeched slightly against the asphalt as MJ drove away. Sighing, he took the elevator up to the apartment, unlocking the front door and throwing himself in bed. 

Now that he had the apartment to himself and was actually alone, he felt like he could finally scream; anything to get rid of the constant pain his goddamn wound was causing him. But no, as he rolled over, he saw aunt May looking at him from where she stood in the doorway. 

“May.” His voice came out incredibly raspy, so he cleared his throat and tried again. The scene reminded him of when he had come home to a pissed aunt May three days ago. “I thought you were working late.” 

“Change of plans,” she said. “Didn’t you see that text message I sent you?” 

As she came closer, he decided to sit properly on the bed. “Uh, my phone’s kinda… broken.” 

His aunt’s eyes widened. “Again?” 

“I’m sorry! I accidentally dropped it in a swimming pool the other day— it barely works,” Peter said defensively, to which aunt May sighed.

“But you had a good time with MJ, yeah?”  

He nodded. It had certainly been a good day, but he had hoped something more would happen. Was that selfish? “Yeah, it was okay.” 

Aunt May put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it tight, and he looked up at her with a small smile. “There’s some food in the fridge, if you want some,” she said.

“Thanks, But I think I’m just gonna go to bed. I’m kinda tired.” 

She gave an understanding nod. A thought suddenly lit up in Peter’s head like a light bulb, so he stopped her before she was completely out of the room.

“Hey, May?”

She stopped and looked back at him. “Yeah?” 

“Any news about the internship?” 

There was no excitement in her look, so he knew what her answer was before she replied. “Sorry, Pete. Nothing yet.” 

It was obvious that he felt disappointed. He had been waiting for so long now, so did that mean that he hadn’t gotten in? He knew most people who applied were probably older MIT students, and given he was only a junior, it made sense; however he had hoped his level of genius would be able to outmatch theirs.

Perhaps it was crazy of him to think he would actually have a chance.

When she left the room and closed the door behind her, Peter didn’t go to sleep. Instead he rose from the bed and sat down by the desk, pulling out the strange gun apparently made of alien- and Stark Industries technology that he had hidden away in one of his drawers.

At first, the metal was cold and icy in his hands. It was only eight inches long and less deadly than some he might have chosen from the van, but obviously no ordinary gun; it almost looked futuristic. It strongly reminded him of some of Toomes’ weapons, as was where some parts originated from, which only made Peter more concerned about what these bad guys had in mind.

By removing two screws, he managed to separate the barrel and the trigger mechanism from the stock. He let out a sigh of relief, because now, even though the safety was on, he didn’t have to worry about accidentally firing it off. His hands were trembling as he warily studied the different parts of the gun, frowning upon the light blue, glowing capsule that was attached at the gun’s inside, surrounded by an insane amount of wires. 

This was the strangest piece of technology Peter had ever laid his eyes on. Carefully, he cut off some of the wires to hopefully be able to separate the capsule from the gun.

As he cut a certain wire, he realized he probably shouldn't have messed with something he barely understood, because suddenly his Spidey Sense began to prickle at the back of his neck, buzzing at the base of his skull.

It was a warning.

Next, there was a low humming surfacing from the gun, the capsule beginning to glow brighter and brighter Peter had to narrow his eyes to be able to look properly.

What was happening? Was it going to explode?

Pure instincts took over; he stood and yanked the capsule out of the gun, reached for a webshooter and webbed everything up in a matter of seconds. Yep, he was fully aware it was a dumb idea, a really dumb one too, but it was the best he had on such short time. 

Slowly, as the humming faded away and Peter’s senses calmed, he allowed himself to relax. He seated himself back in the chair, staring at the parted weapon covered in webs and the capsule filled with strange, blue liquid that glowed in the dim light. 

He leaned back in the chair with a deep exhale. This was some next level stuff, he knew it. And he had to stop whoever had their hands on this before who knows what could happen. 

Chapter Text

STARK INTERNSHIP

CHAPTER 5: Shots Fired

“RECRUITING, TONY,” Pepper said. “The interviews are set up for April 21st— it’s in a week.”

“What?” Tony burst out, as if it was the strangest thing he had ever heard. “What interviews?” 

Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, husband and wife, but also co-workers, were chatting in Pepper’s office. It was late, the room only lighted up by the LED spotlights in the ceiling, leaving the large windows to no other use than to give a spectacular view of the busy city below. The man was sitting in a fancy, very expensive armchair, while the woman stood by the desk, resting her hands on the wood but maintained eye contact with him. 

“See, if you actually listened to the phrasing of that sentence, or any of the conversations we’ve had lately, you’d know what I was talking about.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Can’t I just skip the recruiting? I don’t see why I need to be there.” 

Pepper sharpened her glare. “Tony, it’s your company. I think you should expand your horizons, be apart of something new for once. Maybe someone will impress you.” 

Tony sighed and leaned forward in the chair.

“It will be good for you,” Pepper continued.

“Fine,” he hesitantly said, knowing an argument with Pepper was one he would never win. Besides, he would lie if he didn’t admit that this was something that could be interesting. 

Pepper walked closer to him, her high heels hard against the floor. “We’ve narrowed the applications down to twenty. Most are from MIT— I’m guessing you’re more than happy with that.” 

“Actually, I don’t really care where they’re from. As you said, I should expand my horizons, right?” Tony cocked his head to one side. “It wouldn’t kill us to hire from somewhere else for once.”

“Tony, you’re from MIT.” 

“I’m an exception.”

The blonde woman laughed lightheartedly, shaking her head from side to side, which was never a good sign.

“All I’m saying,” Tony continued. “Is that we need someone who can think on their feet, not another clone with a rod up his ass.” 

Pepper stared at him for a split moment. “Tony, we’ve only ever hired from MIT. They give the best results and you know it.”

“Then find someone better.” 

A playful smile beamed on her lips. “As I said, not everyone are from MIT. Many are from the most prestigious schools in New York— those could be very promising.” 

Tony looked up at her from the chair with a grin. “See?” He raised his brows. “You should’ve just said that.” 

Pepper laughed and seated herself on his lap, placing her hands on his shoulders and took in her husband’s appearance with friendly eyes. An expensive tailored black suit with a charming red tie, a rare sight of the man unless he was headed for an important meeting. He looked exhausted and sleep-deprived, dark bruises circling under warm chocolate eyes. His dark hair was a mess, like he had just woken up and rushed off to work without bothering to comb it. His chiseled jaw lifted with a proud smile.

On the other hand, she wore a beautiful creamy silk dress, its long sheets falling elegantly by her knees. As if that couldn’t be topped, she wore a nice, thin white jacket to finish the outfit as a whole. Her ginger hair was curled and rested nicely on her shoulders. 

A mischievous smirk on her lips, she slid a hand down across his chest, feeling the arc reactor for a moment as she leaned down to meet his cheek. As he leaned into it, she placed a few soft teasing kisses on his cheek and jawline, causing him to reach for her hands and pull her closer to him. 

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Tony said, voice soft.

Pepper smiled through the kisses and paused for a moment. “I’ll be in a better mood when we get home.” She leaned back with a playful look on her face, standing up and releasing him from her hold. 

When she finished packing away the files on her desk, Tony held out her coat, being the gentleman he always was. She slipped her arms into the arms of the cloth, pulling up her phone to check what time it was.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said as the both of them began heading out. “You think our babysitter’s still there?” 

“What, Susan?” Tony chuckled, holding the door open for her. “She wouldn’t dare to leave Morgan alone. Our kid’s a monkey.” 

“You’re right about that,” Pepper laughed. “Let’s go home.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The next morning, Peter got a ride to school with aunt May. Apparently she needed to get to the hospital early, and being an extra couple of minutes early to first period was alright with him.

His injury was far less inflamed than it had been yesterday. He took his usual dose of pain meds every other hour, but not too much of the few antibiotics that he had. Even though he felt over the moon to not be walking around with constant pain, the side effects emboldened it. The nausea and dizziness always seemed to be sticking around, so he found himself going frequently to the boys’ bathroom either to check on the bandage or because his lunch threatened to come up. 

When the last period bell rang, Peter felt the relief wash through his system for a nanosecond before he remembered: day ain’t over yet. 

He made his way up through the countless teenagers making their way down, on their way to freedom. He walked to classroom 125A and opened the door, seeing MJ sitting on a desk with her feet on a chair, busy with her phone, but not too busy to give him a smile and a friendly wave with her hand. She was wearing a red t-shirt and jeans, her hair loose. He returned the gesture. 

The teenager considered sitting down next to her if it wasn’t for Ned, who called out for him a millisecond later, begging for him to sit with him instead. Sighing, he moved to the other desk and seated himself in the empty chair, and shortly after walked Mr. Harrington into the room. 

“Hello, Decathlon Team— or should I say last competition’s winners?” The teacher said with a grin, dropping a stack of papers on the nearest desk. A couple of students giggled, some yelling and clapping enthusiastically. 

“Today we’re going to focus on the upcoming trip next week to New York. I’ve got a bunch of permission slips I need your parents to sign.” 

Ah. The field trip. Peter had almost forgotten about it. He clenched his jaw, hoping that his wound was healed completely in a week’s time, because he wasn’t going to let his friends down because of Spider-Man; not again.

For the next twenty minutes, they mainly spoke about the field trip to New York, who they were going to compete against, important things they should memorize, before Flash changed the subject to what they were going to do with the money prize when they won. 

Peter could barely keep his eyes off MJ. 

He hoped it wasn’t that obvious, because he knew they were supposed to be just friends. But she was just so incredibly beautiful he couldn’t help it. God, how he wished she hadn’t friendzoned him in the car, but it wasn’t her fault she didn’t feel the same way as he did.

After school, Peter and Ned went over to his place. Peter had been reluctant about it because all he wanted to do now was to go home and sleep. He wanted to sleep the nausea and pain off, and when he woke up his injury would be gone. But he had said yes anyways, because although friends were supposed to be there to help you, the last thing he wanted was more concerned and worried people around him. 

“Earth to Peter!”

It was Ned who had spoken, and was now glaring at him with raised brows and snapping his fingers in front of his eyes. They were in the middle of building a LEGO model of R2D2, and he realized his attention had drifted elsewhere.

Peter straightened himself and adjusted to the LEGO piece in his hand, looking back at him. “Hm?” 

“Are you ever gonna do anything about that?” Ned asked with a sly grin.

“About what?” Peter asked, genuinely confused.

“This whole MJ crush thing.” 

Oh. So it was that obvious.

“I don’t have a crush on MJ,” he tried.

Ned rolled his eyes. “You so do.”

“I don’t.” 

“You obviously just dazed off because of her, didn’t you? Plus, you get all blushy and weird when you talk to her, and sometimes you just stare at her like she’s this piece of art or something.”

“She’s MJ,” He scoffed, as if that would carry enough weight to shut this down. 

“Exactly. She’s pretty and amazing and cool and everything Peter Parker is looking for in a girl, but fails to find in the girls he usually goes for.”

Peter laughed at that; however it quickly turned into a slight groan as pain exploded in his stomach. He clasped a hand protectively over the wound and leaned back against the side of Ned’s bed, a smile still on his lips despite everything.

“You okay there?” 

Ned was suddenly by his side, worried eyes looking him over. So much for that.

“Never been better.” Peter chuckled nervously.

His best friend didn’t look convinced. Peter sighed and began explaining. “It happened when I was busting some gun dealers a few days ago— I got shot.” Ned’s eyes widened, so he quickly added, “But I’m good! Really. It’s just taking forever to heal.” 

Ned sat back down on the floor and started fiddling with some LEGO bricks. Peter was thankful that he wasn’t pushing the matter any further like MJ had, he wasn’t sure if he could take that right now. 

“You know, I’m supposed to be your guy in the chair,” Ned said after some time. “Can you… Can you promise to tell me next time when things get rough? Give me a call?” 

Peter nodded and held out a hand. “I promise.” 

They shook hands.

“...You and MJ would look cute together, is all I’m saying,” Ned continued and laughed. Peter moved his head from side to side with a grin before playfully throwing a small LEGO piece at his friend. 

Peter didn’t stay for very long after they had finished their LEGO build. He wasn’t going to lie, the R2D2 model had turned out to look quite impressive, and he kept giving it glances from where he and Ned were chatting on the floor. They did a great job; part of him was almost jealous that he didn’t get to bring the Star Wars figure home.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

On the edge of the rooftop sat a vigilante in a red and blue suit with mismatched stitches and patches, scouting out into the midnight city. The wind was a bitterly cold and biting, especially for autumn to be, whisking away all heat he had and leaving him shivering and pale, despite that his blood was still running warm. 

Closing his eyes, Peter released all of his weight and let himself freefall down the building.

Adrenaline coursed through his body until in the last possible second, he shot out a web and swung upwards. A smile formed underneath his mask, because oh how he loved this feeling. 

After what had happened Friday night, Peter had barely been out as Spider-Man. Waiting that long between patrolling made him antsy, but a criminal could easily pin him down if he found his weakness. But now, having waited almost a week and taken a load of painkillers and antibiotics, he was willing to take the risk— infection be damned. As long as he didn’t push his limits and stayed with simple acrobatics, he would be just fine. 

Right? 

After a couple of minutes, he was beginning to feel fire pulsate through his wound every time he swung himself upwards. He decided to take a breather and landed on top of a smaller building, groaning as his feet hit the roof. Cursing to himself for not bringing any painkillers, he let out a few heavy breaths and crouched down to ease the constant ache.

Suddenly he wasn’t so sure if it was a good idea of him to be out after all.

However, he pushed that thought to the back of his head, as there came a loud, high pitched shriek just nearby that made his blood run cold.

In an instant he was up in his feet, racing toward where the scream had come from. He shot out a web and swung to the side of the other building, leaping to the roof of an apartment building. He heard voices, screams for help and whimpers. He hurried towards them, perched on top of the building and glancing down into the narrow pathway to see what exactly was going on below him.

“Shut her the fuck up!”

Every muscle of the young brunette woman’s face tightened as a hand landed on her mouth, pressing her hard against the building wall, her eyes narrowed and chin jutted outward.

Against a black car leaned two men, faces partially obscured by the lack of light. A tall, brawny man emerged out of the vehicle, dressed in an obviously expensive suit unlike the other five men. Peter already had a bad vibe about this guy. 

“Listen to me, you fucking piece of worthless shit,” the man began in a whispering voice. “You’re a traitor. Who do you think’s gonna help a traitor?” His laugh made Peter cringe and sent chills down his spine. 

“That’s right. No one. So be a nice, pretty lady and shut your mouth.” 

The other, skinnier man holding a hand on the woman’s mouth, pulled his hand to himself, revealing the woman’s red, trembling lips. 

Who Peter could only assume was the leader of the gangsters, turned halfway around, but then seemed to have second thoughts and moved back to the bruised woman, awfully close and practically breathing in her face. 

“You could have had it all,” he said. “With our weapons, our plans. Money, diamonds, men, anything a lady like you could possibly ever want.” 

He shook his head.

“You just had to call that fucking Spider, turn your back on your own family.”

“I didn’t—“ 

“You sent your family into an ambush,” The man interrupted her, his voice loud and angry. He slammed a hand flat against the concrete wall beside her face. The woman was trying to look tough now, but it was obvious she was afraid.

“A stupid move. You betrayed us and now you are gonna pay for it with your life, dying in the city that you love.” 

When the man pulled out a very advanced pistol with awfully familiar technology, Peter decided that he had seen enough. 

“All we can only hope now is that next week goes exactly as planned. Our big picture depends on it.” The man gave the woman a smug smile, holding the pistol up to her face and stepping back. “Now, Louise, you might have been essential to the business, but I figure we’re gonna do just fine without you.” 

As Peter swung down into the situation and approached the gang, he instantly shot a web at the man’s pistol and yanked it out of his grip. His eyes meet theirs for a second, giving them a nod. 

“Gentlemen.” 

He shot a web at one of the dudes by the car, webbing their hand to the top of the vehicle. As another gangster attempted to make a shot at him, Peter smirked, kicked the weapon out of his grip and punched him in the face, his fist colliding with his nose. At the crack of his nose breaking, the masked vigilante couldn’t help but wince. “Ouchie. Sorry ‘bout your nose.” He was not.

At the same time the gangster fell to the ground, two more men were beginning to move towards Peter simultaneously and he prepared himself for a tougher fight. He took two of the bad guys out in rapid succession, swinging his elbow backward in the face of the man behind him and just as he kicked the knee of the one in the front. Both fell to the ground, stunned, but recovered quickly. 

He watched as they stood rather ungracefully back to their feet before he knocked them both unconscious and webbed them up. 

“You know, you both really should have stayed down.” 

Suddenly there was a gun pointed directly at the back of his skull. Peter didn’t hesitate. He reached for the weapon and moved its mouth to point at the sky just in time for it to go off, but the man brought it around and smashed it into the side of his head. Stumbling back as pain exploded in his head and bile came halfway up his throat, he held on to the wall, trying his very best not to black out. 

His whole body was screaming at him. Against his will, a pathetic sounding whimper slipped out before he could stop it. His Spidey Sense was going haywire, but he was too nauseous to move. 

Peter really wished he had been conscious enough to move, because when fire spread in his abdomen, he knew someone had taken the moment to kick him at his weak spot. 

He had to bite his lips not to cry. Raw coughs bubbled up his throat and he dropped to his knees, the taste of blood erupting in his mouth. 

Fuck. He really should’ve stayed home. 

He pressed a trembling hand to his stomach protectively, then turning it over to see it stained with scarlet liquid. The vigilante could barely see through his blurry vision, barely hear through the ringing in his ears. Pain was everywhere and he wasn’t sure if this was a fight he could win anymore.

When the gangster moved forward to give him another hit, Peter even surprised himself when he somehow found the strength to web at his legs, causing him to propel to the ground. The gangster went out in a second, lying on the ground as still as a corpse. 

“Not as tough as I thought you were, Spider-Man.” 

Peter looked up to see the big man in the suit standing just in front of him. Fear tightened his chest and his heart rate instantly picked up, because he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to escape the scenario in the state he was.

Fuck. He was so screwed. 

The big man sighed. Peter swallowed and got a good look at the man through his blurry eyes: Muscular. Gray hair. Jawline beard. Sharp features. Soulless eyes. 

“I hope you don’t disappoint me next time, Spider. Because, well...” He turned around and began to walk toward the passenger door of the black SUV. Peter’s gaze went around frantically as he realized the girl was gone, but his limbs protested too much for him to look for her and his eyelids were incredibly heavy. 

Peter heard him speak four words before he seated himself into the vehicle and it drove away.

“We will meet again.” 

Chapter Text

STARK INTERNSHIP 

CHAPTER 6: Broken Glass Inside My Head

“YO, PETER? You still with me?”

The time Ned jolted him back into consciousness Peter hadn’t even realized he had been half asleep. 

“Huh?” He swallowed, looking at Ned with tired eyes before he leaned his head back against the window of the moving bus. “Oh… yeah.” 

“Ok, so,” Ned began, returning his attention to the tablet filled with all kinds of questions in his hands. Oh, right. They were preparing for the academics. “What happens if you travel faster than the speed of sound?”

The teen was barely listening to his best friend, as he was on the verge of falling asleep again and his mind was wandering endlessly. Nevertheless, he gave the question some thought and answered only mere seconds later.

“Um… shock waves are formed because air can’t move out of the way in time. The shock waves then create a sonic boom, which again creates huge amounts of sound energy.”

“Nice. What does preposterous mean?”

Peter watched as they passed a woodland to his side, his gaze going from one tree to another to another. 

“Can you use it in a sentence?”

“Yes, yes I can. It’s so preposterous that we’re sitting on a stupid bus on our way to an academic decathlon competition in New York after what has happened with you lately,” Ned said. “Preposterous.”

“Uh… ridiculous. Absurd. Out of place.” 

“Exactly.”

When the bus suddenly rattled for a second, Peter choked back a gasp of pain as he felt his wound explode, fire circling through his veins, a sheet of sweat coating his forehead. It must have alerted MJ, who was sitting in one of the seats in front of them, as she suddenly appeared out of nowhere to to scan him with worried eyes. 

“It’s not better, is it?” She asked. He shook his head. 

“We shouldn’t have come. I knew it, we shouldn’t have come,” Ned said with an annoyed sigh.

“We had to… for the team.” Peter looked at him and expected a reply, but instead his best friend just glared back at him as if he had said the stupidest thing ever.

The bus rattled again and Peter’s left side was shoved against the side of the vehicle. He had to bite back a cry but a pathetic groan escaped his lips.

“Alright, I’m telling Mr. Harrington—” 

“No, no, no,” Peter cut him off. “I’m okay.” 

“At least let us see it,” Ned insisted with raised brows. Peter hesitantly lifted up his slightly bloody shirt, revealing the crimson-soaked bandage. The stitches had obviously been ripped, as thread desperately tried to escape the scene. Even without lifting the bandage itself, it was obvious the injury had gotten way worse. 

He had used all of his painkillers and most of his antibiotics, so now he could only live with the pain, hoping that it would heal in a matter of days, however unrealistic that was. The damage had gone downhill ever since the night he failed so spectacularly in saving a poor woman from being executed.

“Dammit, Pete,” Her sudden outburst startled him a little; his eyes widening before he rested his head back against the window. 

“It’s been more than week. It should have been healing by now, not getting worse,” he heard her say. “Aren’t you taking what I gave you?” 

“I used it all.”

MJ let out a nasal sigh. “I think it’s time you get some real help, Pete. Get May to pick you up. You know, see a doctor.” 

In the side of his vision, he could see Ned nodding in agreement, but hell if he was. “You know I can’t,” he slurred out.

The last thing he needed was for someone to find out about his identity, about his powers, about what he could do. Going to a hospital was too much of a risk. 

MJ sighed. Peter could’ve sworn he would fall asleep if Ned hadn’t spoken up.

“Well, what do we do?” 

“What’re you whispering about?” Now it was Gwen who had spoken, curiosity beaming from her eyes from where she had turned to look at them beside MJ. There was a smile on her painted lips that quickly faded when her eyes landed on Peter. “Sweet Jesus, what happened to him?” 

Gwen didn’t know about his identity as Spider-Man and Peter intended to keep it that way. 

MJ turned to her. “Do you think you can convince Mr. Harrington to stop at the next station?” 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The four teenagers stumbled into the men’s bathroom at the next stop, Peter’s weight shared between Ned and MJ’s shoulders. When they rather clumsily dropped him to the floor, he groaned in discomfort and rested his head back against the brick wall. 

“Okay, okay. Okay.” MJ drew a shaky hand through her hair and looked between Ned and Gwen, before she gently unbuttoned Peter’s shirt and grimaced at the sight of the nasty bandage. When she carefully removed the bandage, she almost immediately froze at the view; it was obvious it was like nothing she had ever seen before.

Despite that there was some fresh skin by the corners of the big wound, it was overrun by the dark, dark blood that was covering up the wound from revealing how deep it actually was. The stitches had been ripped so the wound had reopened, and there were some small pieces of bandage that clung to the injury for dear life. 

“Jesus…” MJ clearly didn’t know what to say. Her facial expression was a mix of disappointment and worry. 

“It wasn’t like that yesterday… ‘swear,” Peter quickly mumbled, his eyelids so heavy he had to close his eyes again. Darkness threatened to take him, and he was close to letting it.

MJ shook her head. “Hey, Pete,” she said, her voice soft and gentle as she urged for his attention. “Pete, look at me. You gotta stay awake.” 

“M’ tired...” 

“I know… just- just stay awake.” 

“Okay, um...” MJ looked around frantically before her gaze landed back on Ned and Gwen, who had stepped away but still looked pale as a sheet and worried about their friend. “Do one of you have some thread? A needle, fresh bandages, anything?” 

“Yes, yes— here.” Gwen hurriedly opened her purse and pulled out some black thread and a needle, as well as some tape. She quickly handed the supplies to MJ before she turned to Ned, who was glaring at her with a look of confusion. 

“What?” She raised her brows. “You never know when they might come in handy.” 

Ned scoffed amusingly and turned to the girl crouched on the floor in front of the bleeding out boy. She appeared to be trying to thread the needle, but it was a hard battle as her hands were shaking and she looked obviously stressed. 

“You know what you’re doing?” 

“Yeah— my father taught me,” MJ answered him.

“Okay uh… how long— how much time do you need? ‘Cause the bus might leave.” 

Finally she managed to get the thread through the needle and couldn’t help but show a small inch of a smile. Looking at at Ned, she said, “Just-just stall them, okay?” 

“I’ll help,” Gwen offered, and then the two of them were out of the restroom, leaving MJ alone with Peter.

“Okay,” she said, brushing a hand through her curls. “You can do this. Just remove the old stitches, clean the wound, redo them. It’s easy.” 

The process passed fairly quickly; after MJ had removed the old thread and cleaned the wound as best as she could, which was more than good enough, new black thread looped evenly through his skin and neatly closed the wound. Everything was a blur, and by the time MJ was doing the final touches Peter had become completely numb.

His mind was constantly running, mostly thinking about what had happened a couple of days ago. The last time he had gone out as Spider-Man.

He couldn’t help but think about the woman. The life he could have saved. 

Why didn’t he save her? 

Why did he let them take her, why didn’t he stop them? He hadn’t seen her being taken back, nor heard her scream for help… but it was the only explanation. He would have seen her running away.

Why didn’t he follow the damn car? Why did he freeze? 

He was supposed to be Spider-Man. Spider-Man’s job was to save lives and stop crime— and he failed.

What if that innocent woman had been MJ?

It was when MJ cursed under her breath as she struggled with the tape he could feel his senses beginning to give up on him.

“I could’a saved her…” Peter’s lower lip began to tremble and he stopped speaking for a moment. MJ’s movements froze and she looked up, trying to meet his half opened eyes.

Then he continued, gaze staring out into nothing but thin air. “They took her… they must have. I couldn’t even stop some stupid criminals…” 

“Hey,” MJ spoke, her voice soft. “Hey, look at me.”

Peter’s bloodshot eyes connected with her warm brown ones. She swallowed hard, suddenly looking very unsure about her approach.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. You can’t save everyone.”

A sob erupted from his throat like it was molten lava. He brought a hand he could barely feel up to his mouth, surprised by himself, desperately trying to keep the tears from escaping his eyes. But his eyes kept watering up, and it was like he had no control of his body anymore.

Stop crying, goddamnit. She’s MJ. She’s MJ. Stop crying in front of her. Be strong. 

Stop fucking crying!

He couldn’t stop. 

MJ wasn’t here. No one was there.

He was alone.

“Peter, calm down.” Her voice was underwater. Soft hands on his cheeks.

“You’re okay, Pete. You’re okay. Just breathe.” 

Peter took several deep breaths that quickly turned into fast, erratic ones. Stop, he thought. Stop it.

Pull it together.

Relax. 

Breathe. 

None of these things came easy for Peter. His head was spinning and the world was shattering all around him. Terror swept through his brain like a raging storm at the sea.

Was this his breaking point?

He wheezed with every shallow attempt at breathing, his heart exploding in his chest. 

No, he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay because he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel his own body. It wasn’t okay because someone was dead because of him. 

And it wasn’t the first time, either.

Suddenly Peter was thinking about uncle Ben. He couldn’t help but think, if it wasn’t for him and all the stupid choices he had made, his uncle might still be alive. 

It was his fault. Who was next on the list? Aunt May? Ned? MJ? 

Suddenly there was a sharp sting across his left cheek that brought reality back to focus, and he realized MJ had slapped him. 

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I-I had to do something to make it stop,” she apologized frantically and brushed her hand through the air as if it was a match she was putting out the fire on.

Peter stared at her with wide eyes, but his body was nowhere near seeming to be calming down. His skin prickled and he was panting heavily, desperately trying to get air into his numb body. His heart was hammering out of his chest and it was so loud so loud so loud—

“Peter, you gotta relax. Breathe,” she said in a soothing tone, gently brushing her fingers through his hair. “Breathe…”  

“I-I can’t— I c-c-cant,” he managed to get out, his voice quivering. 

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Too fast.

Another breath wouldn’t come. His chest was too tight.

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.

Was he dying? 

He needed to get out of his head. He was losing his mind. He was convinced he was losing his mind. 

He remembered the gangster’s nasty smirk and the sentence spoken to him seconds before driving away. He remembered his face in his face.  

We will meet again.  

The four words echoed through his head. What was it supposed to mean? The walls were closing in on him and it hurt it hurt it hurt he clutched his chest because it hurt

He had to escape he had to get out of here oh god oh god why was this happening it was too hot too cold too loud too much he couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe—

MJ wrapped him up in her arms, holding him tightly, gently stroking his bare back and placing kisses into his sweaty hair. She smelled greatly of perfume and roses. It was nice. He hid his face in her blouse and melted into her warmth, choking on the unaltered fear.

“Calm down, Peter.” 

“Can’t…” 

“Yes, you can. I’m here. You’re okay.” 

“MJ…” 

“Just breathe. Breathe with me. In. And out. It’s all you gotta do.” 

And so, he did. 

Peter breathed, and slowly but surely, his senses eventually came back. First sound. His own, short breaths, MJ’s voice suddenly above water.

Then touch. Pain. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, letting the much needed oxygen flow through him. 

Feeling MJ’s breaths, he managed to match them, his heart rate seeming to be slowing down. Tears were no longer welling up in his eyes.

He felt safe.

“You’re alright,” MJ soothed, rocking him back and forth. 

He was okay. 

He was okay. 

He was okay. 

And for a moment, he believed it. 

He wished MJ hadn’t pulled back and taken her warmth with her, leaving him cold and alone. Now, he was no longer safe from the world. 

The teen looked down at himself as a shadow of embarrassment loomed over him. Where there had been nothing but blood and struggle, there was now a fresh make-do bandage neatly covering the wound. It looked clean and didn’t bring a wave of nausea over him at the sight, like his own doing had. 

“You did that?” Peter rasped and looked back at her. 

“Yeah.” She gave him a small smile. 

He let out a relieved breath, almost chuckling. “Nice.” 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 

It was around 4 p.m. when they finally arrived in New York. The hotel they were staying at was fancier than Peter could ever imagine it would be. He guessed part of the money came from last year’s championship, which was nice, because instead of complaining about their stay like he had done last time, Flash seemed to be in great awe of the place.

It was no secret that MJ kept sending him subtle, yet watchful and worried glances. He knew she wanted to send him to a hospital, or at least talk about what had happened in the bathroom. Peter would rather just forget about it and move on, but he knew that was easier said than done.

What exactly had happened, anyway? He had never felt anything like it before.

Peter sighed as he entered the hotel room and placed his bag further into the room on the floor. Eyeing Ned as he too came in, he ran a tired hand over his face and sat down on the edge of one of the two beds, his head swimming and palms sweaty. 

He couldn’t believe MJ had witnessed him freaking out like that only a few hours ago. He was supposed to be strong, to be Spider-Man, and instead she had to stitch him up and calm him down in the most embarrassing way possible. It made him feel vulnerable and he hated it. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if she hadn’t been there for him. 

“You good?” Ned eyed him suspiciously as Peter held his head in his hands. 

The boy opened his eyes and met Ned’s gaze, instantly bringing his hands down when he realized how it probably made it seem like he was in distress; which he wasn’t. He was good. Only MJ needed to know about his… episode. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” 

Ned nodded slowly, still eyeing him. “Gwen and I are headed out. I think MJ’s coming too. You know, sightseeing and stuff before tomorrow. You wanna come with us?” 

Peter didn’t give the matter much thought before he responded, because his body felt like mush and even thinking was exhausting at this point. “I think I’m just gonna stay here. I’m kinda tired.”

His friend nodded again. “You need anything, then? I can get you some Ibux or something.” 

Yes, it would be nice to be able to sleep for a couple of hours at a time for once without waking up because of the damn pain. “Yes— thanks, Ned.” 

“Of course. Call me if something’s up, yeah?” 

Peter nodded, slowly lifting his legs up on the bed so he could lay down and resting his head on the pillow. The door closed, and he realized he was all alone again with no one but himself and his own thoughts.

After a while, he let go, allowing the darkness to take him, and he drifted off.

Chapter Text

Hello, long time no see! How have ya’ll been?

So, I’ve been thinking about continuing this story for some time, if there’s anyone out there who’s still interested or following along for the ride. I haven’t updated in a while because of school and everything, but now things are calming down so I figured I could bring this story back to life. Obviously I’m gonna go thru my old chapters and edit them a bit, because I like to think my english has improved, at least a little lol. But anyway, what do you say? Leave a comment below if you’d like to see more of this. ♥️

Chapter Text

STARK INTERNSHIP

CHAPTER 7: Never Alone

PETER JOLTED awake to the sound of a big BANG, his eyes opening like two flashlight beams to show his chocolate brown irises. 

BANG! 

There it was again. It seemed as loud as a firework, shouting at him with such ferocity that it made his blood run cold and feelings tear. 

He rolled over in bed with a hand clasped protectively against his side, gently at his injury but as he moved it launched a shock of pain and he couldn’t help but let out a groan. Squinting through the dim lighting of the room, he noticed he was alone. All by himself in a super-fancy hotel room, its large curtains drawn over the wall windows to shield from the bright, unwelcoming daylight. 

MJ, Ned and Gwen were probably still out, he figured. Ned had mentioned something about going out to see the city, but he hadn’t paid much attention to what he had said. His injury was a constant throb throb ache ache— it was difficult to think about other things. Suddenly another loud BANG! brought him out of his thoughts and his eyes darted towards the door.

What the hell was that noise? Where was it coming from?

Scrambling desperately onto his feet, Peter grabbed a hold of his shoes that laid scattered across the floor whilst fighting against his body’s protest. He needed to figure out what was going on. His sixth sense was going haywire at the back of his skull— but why?  

A shaky hand latched around the doorknob and he slowly opened it; peering through to the other side with curious eyes. But the hallway was empty. 

He let out a trembling breath and began to slowly sneak through the corridor with quiet steps. It was late, it had to be. The only sound he could hear was his own fast, ragged breath. He had never witnessed a hallway this quiet before. It almost felt like he was in some sort of a horror movie. 

Continuing towards the end of the hallway, that was when Peter suddenly heard something. Words. Someone was whispering, though he couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying until he came a little closer, peering through the corner of the wall. 

“Hurry up and get that door open, mate! We don’t have all day.”

Wait… British? 

“I’m fucking trying! I just- I’m new to this, all right? It’s not as easy as it looks.” 

“Seriously? I can’t believe the boss hired someone who can’t get a bloody door open.” 

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth right now-” 

“And he’s got a temper as well?”

“It’s a goddamn hotel door! Why don’t you go ahead then, huh?” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself now, mate. Try again.”

Peter couldn’t help but snicker as the two men whispered back and forth, obviously frustrated with each other. The short, bubbly one was dressed in a red hotel uniform, his black hair cut short and a brawny demeanour following him. The other guy seemed a little younger, with blond streaked hair but still obviously fit. He wore a hotel uniform too, but Peter was no idiot; he knew these guys didn’t actually work here. Anyone in the right mind would be able to tell that. Still, Peter needed to be cautious if he was going to figure out what the hell they were doing with that door. 

BANG! 

Another crack. The short guy had slammed his right shoulder harshly into the hotel door for what had to be the hundredth time by now. Still, the door remained intact as if nothing had happened, leaving both men even more frustrated. Peter had to hold back a laugh. 

“I’m gonna call someone.”

The blond haired man raised his brows. “Sure. Do that. While you’re at it, hand in your resume as well, will ya?” 

Wow, this was entertaining to watch. Part of Peter never wanted it to end, but the other part of him just waited for them to spill any information that could be useful to him. Who they were, was a good beginning. Either way, he was thankful his injury wasn’t at the top if his mind right now thanks to these guys. 

Little guy cursed under his breath. “How the hell did the boss manage to lose that tech anyway?”

Now they were getting at something… 

“It wasn't the boss,” Blond guy sighed. “Well, sort of. It was that woman, you know. Eleanor. The one who ran away.”

“Ah… Her. Right.” 

Blond guy cocked his brows. “Do you even know who I’m talking about?” 

Shorty swallowed, but said nothing. Blond guy smirked at that. 

“There’s a reason for that, you know. If you wanna keep your life, you need to start taking this job seriously. Just a piece of advice.” 

Shorty ignored him. Peter felt like he was watching a movie. 

“Just tell me who she is.” 

“Ah. Yes. Eleanor. The woman who always hung out with our boss. Louise and her were pretty damn close too… but she’s not around anymore. Loyal and pretty damn skilled, if I may say. The best of us— after me, of course.” 

“Is that why the boss sent you here to open a hotel door?” 

Blonde glared at him, the threat clear in his eyes despite Peter standing so far away. 

“Anyway, she turned. Stole a bunch of tech, bluepapers. Threatened to rat on us. Ran away.” 

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Boss thinks she and Louise worked together and somehow brought Spider-Man into that gun trade a few weeks ago… which is why he took care of her when she took off too. Now, Eleanor is the only loose thread remaining.” 

Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. Tech? Could this “Louise” be the same woman he had encountered in an alleyway a couple of days back? The same woman who had had a gun pointed to her head? Then who is Eleanor? 

“And we’ve got intel that this is the room where she seeked asylum. Haven't checked out since. Which is why we’re trying to get this door open, if you’d be so kind to-“ 

Suddenly the memory began to flash before his very eyes. 

“Shut her the fuck up!”

Every muscle of the young brunette woman’s face tightened as a hand landed on her mouth, pressing her hard against the building wall, her eyes narrowed and chin jutted outward.

Against a black car leaned two men, faces partially obscured by the lack of light. A tall, brawny man emerged out of the vehicle, dressed in an obviously expensive suit unlike the other five men. Peter already had a bad vibe about this guy. 

“Listen to me, you fucking piece of worthless shit,” the man began in a whispering voice. “You’re a traitor. Who do you think’s gonna help a traitor?” His laugh made Peter cringe and sent chills down his spine. 

“That’s right. No one. So be a nice, pretty lady and shut your mouth.” 

The other, skinnier man holding a hand on the woman’s mouth, pulled his hand to himself, revealing the woman’s red, trembling lips.

Peter was shaken out of his thoughts when he realised Blondy was staring right at him. 

Despite being in a quiet, empty hotel corridor, and not to forget the awful condition that he found himself in, Peter decided to fall on one way out of this: run. 

“Hey!” 

Already with the first couple of steps Peter had taken, it felt as if he had just run a marathon. And not just any regular marathon, but the kind where your legs felt like mush and body about to collapse at the finishing line. In spite of this he ran, feet hard on the floor and lungs feeling like they weren’t getting nearly enough air as they should. 

Everything burned. Yet, the only thoughts in his head were: Don’t turn around. Just run. 

He must have lost track of how long he kept running, because before he knew it, a big weight slammed into him and he almost lost his balance to the floor. Hands caught him and held him steady. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” The voice was familiar, soothing the beat-down teenager in a strange way. He could recognize his best friend anywhere. 

“What’s wrong, bud? You look like you saw a ghost,” Ned continued, worry evident in his voice. He had both his hands on Peter’s shoulders, who desperately tried to chase his breath whilst looking frantically around for the two men. Where were they? What were they doing? Who were they? Were they still chasing him? Was he safe? 

“Where’s who?” 

“What?” Peter snapped back to reality so fast and first then realized that Ned hadn’t been alone. Beside him stood Gwen with the biggest eyes he’d ever seen on someone. She looked almost scared, taken aback by how fast Peter met her worried gaze. 

The teenager straightened himself, or at least attempted to. His heart raced so fast he was surprised it hadn’t jumped out of his chest cavity. He pulled away from Ned’s gentle touch and brought a hand up to his hair, gripping at it and making it even messier than before. Clear your head, Parker. He needed to get it together. Focus. You look like a fool in front of your friends. 

“Peter…” 

“Wh- Where.. Are we, um, ready for the competition?” Peter interrupted Ned. He brought his hand down, bloodshot gaze darting between the two of them as he swayed a little. 

Ned and Gwen looked at each other.

“Oh, no. You’re not coming to the competition.” Gwen tried to give him a soft smile, but it only appeared forced. 

“What?” Now it was Peter who was taken aback. He felt as if a huge boulder had just slammed into his throat. “But I’m… I know more about quantum mechanics than any of you guys. I’ve been obsessed with Hank Pym all summer!”

Ned’s hand landed on his shoulder again. “Peter, look at you. You’re in no shape for this. We’ve already talked to Mr. Harrington about it.” 

Peter was still visibly shocked, though he could understand why they would want him to stay back. He looked like a mess. Hell, he felt like he had just fallen down from Mount Everest and somehow survived. 

“I’m fine,” He rasped. He knew it was a lie and his friends obviously knew too, because they said nothing.   

“Come, let’s go back to your room,” Gwen said and reached out to grab his arm. “We’re going back anyway.” The boy had eased a little, though he was still on the alert in case the two men were to suddenly show up. It was surprising to see Gwen so calm, given that she had only seen him on the bathroom floor in that gas station. 

Reluctantly, Peter let them escort him back to his room. They didn’t say a word on the way and Peter didn’t blame them. He hated being such a bother. He felt so incredibly small and frail, like a little boy who had lost his mother at the supermarket. If he were to reveal his identity as Spider-Man to Gwen now, she would never believe him. 

It didn’t take long before they had reached Peter and Ned’s hotel room. Ned reached into his pocket for the key card. Peter watched as he slid the keycard over a black little box with a scanner on the side. He heard a high-pitched beep, saw the light turning green. The door opened, but just as they were to enter, Peter spoke up. 

“Wait. Where’s MJ?” 

Ned and Gwen exchanged uncertain looks again. 

“I-I don't know- I think she and some others went to discuss what’s happening tomorrow. Or maybe they’re at the Arcade... Or outside somewhere else.” 

“Not helping, Ned.” Gwen gave him a stern look. “We need to calm him down somehow.” 

Peter’s eyes were locked on the end of the hallway as the two of them bickered back and forth. He kept wondering if the men had seen him with Gwen and Ned, if perhaps they were in danger. His senses were so spiked, as if he was expecting an attack anytime now. He knew it was paranoid of him, but it was rare he felt so small and unable to protect himself. And if he couldn’t protect himself, how would he be able to protect his friends?

“Peter?” 

The teenage boy quickly snapped out of his thoughts. He looked at Ned, who had followed his gaze to the empty end of the hallway. No one was there. Was he crazy? 

“I think you should stay with him,” Gwen whispered to Ned in a way that was meant for Peter not to hear, but anyone with the knowledge of his secret abilities knew he could hear it from miles away. “I’ll try to call MJ.” 

Ned nodded and waved Gwen goodbye as she walked away. His best friend urged the vigilante inside of the hotel room and pushed him down to sit on the edge of his bed.

“You,” Ned said and pointed a finger at him, “need to tell me what is going on.” He kneeled down before the male to untie Peter’s shoes and throw them across the room. 

Peter swallowed. Wiping a sleeve against his sweaty forehead, he wasn’t even sure where to begin. “I… I don’t know.” He stared into blank space. “ That is the thing. I don’t know!” 

“Woah, okay. It’s fine.” Ned refused to look away from Peter, who was beginning to heave, his heartbeats quick in his throat. 

No, it wasn't fine. Nothing of this was fine. His head was in complete chaos, he didn’t know how to be, how to act, how to think; it was almost as if he had completely lost control of his own emotions and they were firing at free will. He spoke without thinking, acted without thinking. Did he have a fever? Suddenly his eyes were welling with tears and he had no idea as to why. 

He felt ashamed of himself. Embarrassed that he thought he could handle some Spider-Manning, but his friends had come to his apparent rescue, treating him like a helpless, lost kitten. It tugged at his stomach, tightening like a knot. He couldn’t help but sniffle as his gaze became blurry, letting out a pathetic sounding whimper.

“Is it your wound?” Ned tried eventually. “Has it gotten bad again?”

Peter shook his head. He was still not meeting Ned’s gaze; it was too humiliating. 

“Here,” Ned moved himself closer to him. “Let me see it.” 

Peter shook his head again more frantically, first then daring to look at his best friend for a split second. 

“I need to…” he tried, but his voice was barely audible. “I need to figure this thing out.” It cracked, but Ned could still hear him. He sat still, crouched before the boy and looked up at him with worried eyes. 

“What thing?” 

“I-I don’t know. There’s a woman… I think some bad guys are after her. She… I think she’s on the wrong path. Wrong side of the city… you know?” Peter looked down hard as he fiddled with his fingers. 

Ned looked confused, but determined to be there for his friend. “And you wanna help her?” 

“I-I have to.” He paused for a moment and stopped fidgeting. “There was this other girl… I-I couldn’t save her.” His lower lip trembled and the guilt hit him as he finished his words, as if he was just now realizing it all over again. 

“I couldn’t save her because of this stupid thing.” He gestured towards all the nasties that were hidden underneath his shirt. There was a long, long pause and it seemed to never end, all its time being spent by Peter wishing he could melt into the ground.

“You’re too reckless,” Ned coldly said in the end. Peter’s heart sank at that. 

A frown crossed his face. “What do you mean?” 

“Come on, Peter.” Ned rose from the floor so he could seat himself next to the wreck of a boy. “You shouldn’t go into battle with an injury like that. Don’t be surprised it didn’t go according to plan when half your stomach is missing, man.” 

A warm hand landed on his back. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so thankfully Ned continued.

“Look. I can’t do what you can, Peter. You can do these incredible things that nobody else can.” Ned chuckled, and Peter couldn’t help but let his gaze soften at the look of it. “And when you have something like that… it means you gotta do something. But you can’t protect everyone, bro. There’s always gonna be someone who you can’t save.” 

Peter swallowed. “But I have to.” 

“But you can’t.” Ned’s hand trailed up to Peter’s shoulder to give it a firm squeeze. Their gazes were interlocked, Ned giving him a heartfelt smile and Peter’s tears drying out. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t try. Just… not when you’re like this. Hurt. You can take some time to fix yourself and the world won’t burn down.” 

Peter looked away. He knew Ned was telling the truth, he just had trouble admitting it. He hated the fact that something as minor as an injury would stop him from being the city’s guardian. But in the end, how would he be able to take care of others if he couldn’t even take care of himself? If he got another blow to the abdomen, he knew he would be out like a flashlight. 

So he had to let it heal. And that meant no Spider-Man for a while. 

Ned was right. He needed to be more careful. 

“Okay.” Peter took a deep breath. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Ned raised his brows.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” Ned let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Now, are you gonna tell me about what happened that night?” 

Peter nodded sheepishly. Ned was his guy in the chair after all, so he knew it was only for the better if he opened up about this. 

They got to talking. Peter told him everything: about the mysterious man, the girl, the two men outside of the hotel room trying to open the door. The technology, the gun trade. It was all so confusing. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he started, but it felt good to finally let it out, as if his weight had suddenly been decreased by a million. 

“Wow,” Ned said, staring into space. “That’s intense.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Peter replied and gave him a small smile. “Which is why someone’s gotta stop him, whoever he is.” 

Ned cocked his head to one side. “Promise you’re gonna let me in on this now?” 

The teen had to laugh at that. “Yeah. Promise.” 

Ned held out his hand. Peter accepted it, and they did their signature handshake. After they finished, they both just looked at each other, best friends and brothers, and Peter was sure he would never be able to put into words how grateful he was for him.

Suddenly the door opened with a large thud, alerting both of the boys as they watched MJ storm into the room. She gasped for air, eyes fixed on Peter and scanning him up and down. There it was again, that lovable I’m-so-worried-about-you look. She was adorable. 

“Are you okay?” She ran up to him, gaze darting between him and Ned. Peter couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m okay,” Peter confirmed. 

“Are you sure?” Her eyes rested on Ned. “Uh, Mr. Harrington is asking for you. I can stay with Peter.” 

Only giving Peter a sincere beam, Ned took his jacket and was out of the room. 

MJ hovered for a few moments, hand firm on the shopping bag over her left shoulder. She had calmed down and seemed to have figured that he had already spoken to Ned about things. "Do you want me to…" she said finally, gesturing towards his bed. 

Peter shrugged. "Sure. Want some Jello?" He pointed to the untouched container still sitting on the drawer across the room. It must have been something Ned had brought. 

"Nah," MJ half-chuckled and tossed her bag and denim jacket over the back of the chair.  She sat down beside the teenage boy and started looking around for the TV remote. Her soft hand on his knee made his heart flutter. As she leaned back against the bed frame beside him and gave him a smile, he could barely get himself to return it. God, how was she so perfect? 

A moment later, he felt the gentle touch of MJ’s fingers on his temples, easing his head to one side and guiding it to rest on her shoulder. The warm wool of her sweater was solid and firm under his cheek. Finally, he allowed himself to relax. 

Not many more words were exchanged for the rest of the evening, having already ran out of things to say. So they opted to watch an old movie instead, but Peter didn’t mind. 

Chapter Text

STARK INTERNSHIP

CHAPTER 8: The Day It Happened

SOFT SUNLIGHT filtered through the openings created by the white curtains, adding a glow to the morning light. Peter’s eyes fluttered open and he let out a soft sigh in his still sleepy state while enjoying his first calm awakening for a while.

What time was it? When he tried to get up to reach for his phone, he found he was being restricted by something -or rather- someone. Oh. He looked down, and it was then he realized whose arms were wrapped around his waist and whose head was currently resting against his chest. 

Oh, MJ.

His heart skipped a beat at the view and for a moment he thought he forgot how to breathe; that’s how overwhelmed he was. Rays of sunlight dappled the girl snoring peacefully on the boy, her head moving with every little breath Peter took. The weight of her hurt his injury a little, but he didn’t care. They must’ve fallen asleep watching that movie last night. He had to admit he had never seen her at such ease before; she slept like a freakin’ baby. An incredible, smart, stunning, beautiful- 

Holy shit. MJ was actually sleeping on him. 

The teen’s thoughts were cut short when he noticed MJ was in fact, drooling on his checked shirt. He couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, something that seemed to have woken up the girl. Damn it, he thought. He had wanted the moment to last forever, though he found it amusing that someone as tough as her suddenly looked so incredibly vulnerable, drooling all over him. But fuck it— it was adorable. It was MJ! 

“Hey…” he spoke softly, but beyond audible in the dead silence, as he gently stroked a hand through her dark curls. 

MJ responded with a slight groan and a huff as she started waking up from her deep slumber. She stirred awake, eyes opening slowly. Once her eyes were fully adjusted to the light, she saw Peter and gazed up at him, eyes suddenly wide with terror. She quickly lifted her head from him, her body jerking away from his as if he was a fire. 

“Um, w-what time is it?” She asked him and rose from the bed, sleep still visible on her face. Her gaze went around the room as if she was afraid someone had seen them, but frankly, Peter didn’t bother. 

“I don’t know,” Peter responded, unable to wipe the same smirk he’d had ever since he had woken up, off his face. “I was trying to check, but you made that a little difficult.” 

MJ kept glaring at him, and upon further study, he realized that the girl was actually… blushing? Could she possibly become any cuter? Quickly, she turned away and reached for his phone laying on the bedside table. 

“You have 17 missed calls from Ned,” She said and raised her brows.

“I do?” Peter asked.

“Yeah.”

“It’s probably nothing. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” That was true. Considering how many times Ned had called him over the smallest things, such as when the new Star Trek Netflix series had come out and Ned had literally texted him over 153 messages about it, he wouldn’t be too concerned. 

“It’s also 7:30 AM.” She swallowed. It seemed like she wanted to forget she had slept on him and rather move on as if she was embarrassed, but Peter wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. 

“You snore,” Peter continued with a mischievous look. 

MJ turned to face him and Peter could only grin. “I do?” She asked, concerned. 

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “And um, you drool. Like, a lot. My arm was really starting to hurt and I was thinking of moving you, but then you squeezed me like a teddy bear-” 

“Okay, okay!” Finally, MJ showed what Peter had been waiting for all morning: a smile. “I get it. You can stop.” 

He beamed from his position in the bed. However, it disappeared the moment his mind drifted to something more serious. “Hey,” he began. “The competition.” 

MJ whispered a curse. “It… It’s fine.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t start until twelve. We’re supposed to meet down in the cafeteria at eight to eat breakfast and go over everything, but-“ She cut herself off, gaze landing hard on him. He raised his brows expectantly. 

“How are you?” 

A small smile crept back to his features at her sudden question. 

“I’m very fine, thank you. How are you on this wonderful morning, miss?” Peter responded sarcastically, as he knew that she was actually referring to his injury. Damn MJ for thinking about him when she was the one who needed to hurry up if she was going to get down to the rest of the team in time. 

“You know what I mean, asshole.” She approached him tentatively. Wary, was what she seemed, as if their night together had somehow changed things between them. But it hadn’t, right? Friends slept together all the time. It was just his first time ever sleeping with a girl… whose name also happened to be MJ.

“Can I look?” MJ’s friendly eyes met his, and he nodded, sitting up more straight. 

He allowed her to roll up his shirt, peeling off the edge of the bandage and exposing his bare skin and the injury.

The look of it took Peter by surprise. MJ had done a great job stitching him back up and it was obviously healing well.  The stitches were intact, too. She looked almost proud of herself. It looked clean. Actually clean, and not Peter’s definition of a clean wound. He had never felt better than he did right now; able to breathe without wheezing in discomfort, able to move around without being almost hunched over like a grandma. The constant throb throb ache ache seemed like a long gone memory at this point. 

Her fingers were warm and gentle to the touch. There was something intimate about being with her like this, her hand brushing along his sharp features, but he found that it didn't feel unnatural. 

“How’s that?” She asked with a soft touch.

“Fine.”

“And this?” She pressed a little harder and he winced in discomfort. He could see there was still a bit of unnatural redness, but it seemed to have healed well since he first took the time to recover.

“How’s it look, Doc?” he asked, breath hot on her wrist.

She dropped her hand. “It’s actually… amazing.”

He scoffed. “Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

She rolled her eyes, fastening the bandage and reaching to pull his shirt back down. He tried to ignore the way his heart stuttered slightly in his chest. 

She cleared her throat. “If you feel any discomfort or difficulty breathing, let me know. You can text me or call me or whatever. Even when I’m out there.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. But go, MJ. You gotta get ready— today’s a huge day for you!” 

“Peter, I’m being dead serious!” She almost sneered at him and he laughed at that, it rumbling deep with his chest as he shook his head at her. 

“You know what, I changed my mind. I hope you stop breathing.” She rose and grabbed her denim jacket by the chair. 

This was easy. The banter flowed between them like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they had been friends since the break of dawn. 

“Bye, MJ!” He called after her as she left the hotel room. He didn’t wish her good luck because he knew she wouldn’t need it. 

However as quickly as the door had closed it swung open shortly after, drawing his attention to see Ned practically skipping in. The boy stared at him for a very long time, and Peter stared back, waiting for whatever Ned was going to say but it didn’t seem to come. 

“What?” Peter frowned.  

“That was MJ,” Ned said as if it wasn’t obvious enough. He walked up to Peter who was sitting on the bedside. “You slept with MJ.” 

“No!” He exclaimed quickly. “I didn’t. It wasn’t like that.” 

“Then what was it like?” 

He had trouble answering that.  

“Dude!” Ned hit him playfully on the chest. “Are you guys, like, a thing now?” 

Peter shook his head. “Nah. She doesn’t even like me.” 

Ned looked like he had just heard the stupidest thing in the entire world. “Right…” 

“Ned.” He gave him a stern look. “She literally friendzoned me earlier. What do you know?” 

“I’m not blind, dude. It’s obvious as hell. She’s been all worried about you ever since we got here, man. And not like, friendly kind of worried, but the more kind of worried. Like, I-love-you-so-please-don’t-die kind of worried. Plus, she stares at you all the freaking time!” 

Peter scoffed and looked away. “We’re friends.” The words stabbed him like a thousand needles as he said them because he truly hoped they would grow to be more. Who knew, maybe they would. He really hoped they would. 

“Sure.”

“Ned.”

“Please, just get together already. It’s killing me how you’re both so in love but too shy to admit your feelings!” 

“Ned!” Peter groaned and plopped back in bed. 

“C’mon, Pete!” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this.” He lifted his head and looked back at his friend. “Besides, where were you last night?” 

Ned sighed and walked over to his big, black bag on the floor. “Well, that’s the thing. Last night I kind of forgot my key card here so I couldn’t get in. And you, who I thought was my best friend but is actually the biggest Sleemo in the entire world, weren’t returning my calls! Nor answering my texts! Or opening the freakin’ door!” Ned looked genuinely hurt and Peter could barely hold the laughter at bay. 

“So where were you?” 

There was a pause. “In Betty’s room.” 

Peter almost choked on his own saliva. Had he heard that correctly?

“Wait, Betty?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You slept with Betty?” Peter was grinning from ear to ear, eyes wide with the shock of the reveal. He couldn’t believe his own ears. 

“No!” Ned protested quickly. “I didn’t sleep with anyone! She just had an extra bed.”

Peter laughed. “And you expect me to believe that?” 

“Look, Peter. Let’s just not.” He unzipped his bag and dug through it to find a new pair of clothes. 

“So it’s okay when it’s about me but not about you?”

“Dude!” he said.

“Ned, you’ve had a crush on her since third grade,” Peter whined, leaning his head dramatically back against the pillow.

Ned stood up, clothes in his hand. “Yeah. And that’s why it’s so… frustrating to be rejected like that.” Upon studying him further, Peter noticed that he didn’t look on the verge of crying, just incredibly bummed. Sad, but in an empty sort of way.

“How can you just be so wrong about something?” Ned was asking over the teenagers screeching and laughing just in the corridor outside. Peter was watching him with big, sorrowful eyes for his friend, equally as disappointed as he was to hear such news. The smile was long gone. He had not expected to hear such words. Ned was saying, “If you can’t trust your gut then what can you trust?” And he responded, “The heart wants what it wants, Ned,” which was true. He didn’t care that it was cheesy as hell; it was just something aunt May used to say.

“Maybe,” Ned said eventually.

“Look,” Peter began and rose from the bed with a huff. “You’re gonna get out there, and you’re gonna win us that trophy. And when she sees how incredibly smart and talented you are, she’ll be like `oh my god Ned I love you so much please marry me and have my children!’” 

The boy before him looked dumbfounded, unimpressed by Peter’s awful impression of Betty. Still, he let out a laugh to which he couldn’t help but smile back at. 

“That was so bad.” Ned grinned and began to stride in long, purposeful steps towards the bathroom. “Anyway, I gotta change.” 

“Trust me, man.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Not soon after, Ned came out looking like… well, himself, just a tad different version. He had combed his hair and wore a funny Star Wars t-shirt underneath the yellow decathlon blazer. Without exchanging many other words than goodbye and good luck, Ned was out too, leaving the teen alone in a suddenly silent hotel room. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

It was around 1.15 PM when Peter was starting to become awfully bored. He lay in bed with his gaze glued to the ceiling, surrounded by his textbook and computer and millions of paper sheets scattered on the floor. Because believe it or not, he had actually taken to studying while being stuck in this hotel room, thank you very much.

He had also managed to finish up with the adjustments to a new Spider-Man gadget he had been busy with every now and then to pass time. Get ready for it: electric webs ! It wasn’t always a walk in the park to design equipment; he had lost count of how many times he had almost turned himself into a living bonfire. However, this time he felt like he had truly overdone himself.

And he couldn’t wait to try them out. If only it wasn’t for his damn injury.

It was so quiet. So fucking quiet. Too quiet. If it kept going on for any longer now, Peter was sure he was going to lose his mind. He would rather face the Vulture again than spend another minute in here, plopped on his arse. 

Alright, maybe that was overdoing it. Fighting an evil supervillain like him again wasn’t exactly at the top of his priority list. Toomes was spending the rest of his life away at the Raft, far from hurting anyone ever again. And Peter couldn’t be more relieved.

Suddenly Peter’s mind began to wander elsewhere; to what had happened yesterday, how the two men disguised as hotel staff had desperately tried to get that door open. He couldn’t help but wonder who they were working for, who all the names were, or how the scary high-tech weapons were linked to it all. The image of the man in the fancy suit suddenly played before his eyes. His words, “We will meet again.” It was all so strange. One thing he knew for certain was that he was going to figure it out.

That sparked an idea in the boy’s head as bright as a million suns. It was a dumb idea, probably one of the dumbest he had ever thought of in his life. Damn his curiosity for getting him into this.

The teenager was up on his feet within seconds. It was happening. He didn’t have anything better to do, and technically this wasn’t Spider-Man work. It was Peter Parker work… sort of. Point was, he would still be resting. Technically.

He was going to that hotel room for answers.