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“Holy fuck, you’re Spider-man!”
Jason stills, his suit sliding down his arms as he prays for Leo to spontaneously combust. It would be easier to explain to Thalia why Leo is a scorch mark on the carpet than to explain to Leo how and why Jason just crawled across the ceiling.
Leo inhales, presumably to assault Jason with a torrent of questions, and Jason’s eyes dart to the crack of his open door.
Nothing left to lose.
Web shoots from his wrist and closes the door while Jason rushes to Leo, holding up a threatening finger.
“Piper can’t find out.”
Leo laughs— laughs . He clutches his stomach and falls back on Jason’s bed, LEGO Death Star abandoned on the floor.
After a moment to sober himself, Leo calms enough to say: “I can’t even begin to process how much is wrong with this, but Piper is going to find out.”
Jason throws his hands in the air. “I didn’t even want you to find out!”
Leo’s eyes follow the web still trailing from Jason’s hand to the door. Jason kicks off the suit in frustration, well aware of the eyes on him as he chucks the suit in his backpack for safekeeping.
“Fine,” Jason sighs. “Twenty seconds.”
“How? Who else knows? Can I look at your web shooter? Can I design you a web shooter? Can you summon an army of spiders? Could you stick to a non-stick pan? And why have you been hiding this— ” Leo gestures wildly at Jason’s naked torso— “under all those hoodies? This is an invite to Drew Tanaka’s parties just waiting to be sent.”
“Radioactive spider bite—it’s dead, and I am not getting you one. No one. Not now. Maybe? Absolutely not. Haven’t tried…? And not talking about it.” Jason grabs a sweater from his desk chair and tugs it on. “Better?”
Leo’s eyes are manic. “Oh no, I’m flipping shit right now. Did you say no one knows?”
“No, not even Thalia.” Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t tell anyone, Leo. Not even Piper. Especially not Piper.”
“This is a big thing to keep quiet about, man. What’s the harm in telling—”
Electricity seems to crackle in the air as Jason towers over Leo. He tries to shove down the tug in his gut, but old hurt tumbles out of his mouth. “People I love die, Leo. People who know, die.”
Leo’s eyes soften with a flicker of recognition. A clock tower. A funeral. Jason’s notable absence when the news broke in the school gym.
“Okay,” Leo concedes. “Okay. No telling anyone. But you’re crazy if you think you can keep this from Piper. If I hadn’t seen you literally crawling on the ceiling— which, by the way, what the fuck—I might not have guessed. But she knows you, dude.”
That’s… well, that’s exactly what Jason is afraid of.
This is not a date , Jason reminds himself. If this were a date, Jason would be nervous. He’s decidedly not nervous. So not-nervous that he’s spent the last two blocks convincing himself of how not-nervous he is. It’s just Piper.
Just Piper.
That’s a thing, right? He and Piper have hung out just the two of them. Just never without the pretense of a project or Leo to break the ice, but. Still.
Oh god. He’s going to drop dead.
Jason walks into Piper’s favorite coffee shop with a familiar weight on his shoulders. The whole place screams Piper— from the warmth that washes over him the second he enters to the plush chairs he could lose himself in for hours. This little nook welcomes Jason, fills his nose with sweet scents and promises him the joys he rarely allows himself: rest, nourishment, comfort.
His eyes find her without preamble; there is no scanning of the hole in the wall cafe, no time to worry about beating her here. She’s sitting in the same place as always, half-hidden by a wall of plants that seems to grow taller every time he’s away. Her dark hair peeks through the leaves, her fingers wrapped around the outrageously caffeinated drink Jason pretends he didn’t memorize the order for years ago.
Jason is early, and Piper got here before him. Piper, the most chronically late person he knows, is early to see him. It’s probably to beat every other caffeine-craving college student, but Jason allows himself to believe it’s because she wants to see him for a dangerous moment.
She catches his eye, brown on blue, and gives him a small wave. Warmth cascades through Jason’s chest at her smile, the way the corner of her mouth tugs up and her eyes crinkle. Everything in the room is just a bit sweeter.
“You gonna stand there, or are you gonna come sit?” Piper calls, tone teasing and endeared all at once.
And, yeah, that’s a thing—the way her voice softens when she speaks to him, the way her pupils dilate, the way her heart beats a little faster in her chest. Jason’s senses are so attuned to her, it’s almost unfair for him to pick up on things she doesn’t even know herself.
A smile cracks Jason’s lips as he desperately tries to ignore the way his heart pounds. This isn’t even his Spider Sense, just good old-fashioned nerves from sitting across from a pretty girl.
“I hope you’re down for some pound cake, because they just got a new cinnamon flavor I’m dying to try.” Piper gestures at the paper bag next to her drink proudly.
“Can’t be too excited if you’re waiting for me,” Jason half-jokes.
Piper rolls her eyes and swats Jason’s hand, and he pretends his skin isn’t on fire. “You got me. I just wanted to see if you could handle the spice.”
She tosses him a grin that’s just a little too earnest for her teasing, and Jason completely forgets that’s something he’s supposed to respond to. Maybe even flirt if he weren’t an idiot.
Instead Piper deflates and puts her chin in her palm, her eyebrows furrowing. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
“What?”
“Leo told me you’ve been… off lately, but he wouldn’t explain.”
Oh.
It all makes sense now: the smiles, the slice of cake, the request to meet alone. She doesn’t want to see him—at least not the way he wants her to. Leo just ran his mouth—thankfully keeping Jason’s secret—and now Jason has to suck it up and lie.
Jason tries for a casual smile. “I promise I’m fine. School is just kicking my ass lately.”
“School has never kicked your ass. You kick school’s ass.” Piper narrows her eyes.
“First time for everything.”
“Mhm,” she agrees mildly. “First time missing movie night, first time Leo won’t tell me what’s wrong, first time you lie to my face about where you are. Lots of firsts lately.”
The booth seems a little smaller, like the ceiling lowers with every accusation Piper lays in front of him.
Jason hangs his head. “Please don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“Should’ve thought of that before becoming friends with a psych major.”
“We were friends before you were a psych major,” he grumbles.
“Should’ve thought of that before becoming friends with me .” When Jason’s head doesn’t lift, he hears Piper shift in her seat. “Hey.”
Her hand slides over his, fingertips soft and gentle like the rest of her. Piper, with her light touch and soft edges, all curved lines and stubborn heart.
“Jason.” He lifts his head but doesn’t allow himself to watch her lips wrap around the syllables. Her eyes are so deep, so mythically beautiful. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I know I’m not Leo or Thalia, but isn’t that kind of the point? If something is wrong, you can tell me. I’m always gonna be here for you.”
Every word twists Jason’s stomach. He can’t tell her everything; that’s the problem.
But he hears her conviction, the fierce passion and concern in her words, and he can’t stay silent. He can’t tell her the truth, but he can’t sit here and deny everything to her face. She deserves better than that—than him .
“It’s just…”
The hairs on the back of Jason’s neck stand up, his gut tugging as a shadow passes over Piper’s face.
He hauls her out of the booth, pound cake and coffee forgotten on the table as the ceiling collapses.
By the time the rubble falls, Jason hovers over Piper in a doorway that thankfully holds. Adrenaline courses through his veins as their chests heave and their breath collides in the space between them. His body presses along the length of hers, his shoulders eclipsing the width of her own. He can’t tell if his heart pounds more from the rush of near death or the intoxicating closeness.
He tears his eyes away from her to look at the register and is relieved to find the barista’s head pop up from behind the counter. Chaos bleeds through where the windows used to be, cries of terror from the street followed by the whir of a familiar hoverboard.
“Jason?”
Piper’s voice brings him back, her hair wild and falling in her wide eyes. Jason suppresses the urge to tuck it behind her ear.
“Jason, what was that?”
“The Green Goblin, I think.” More cries from the street, this time closer. “Stay here until everything passes outside, okay? Thalia is a few blocks away right now and I have to--”
Piper searches Jason’s face, her hands tightening on his shoulders like she has half a mind to roll them over and pin him down to keep him here. “Are you serious? There is a literal supervillain on the street. Thalia will be okay, but you might not be if you go out there.”
Thalia is on the other side of town in their apartment, but Piper doesn’t know that. Regardless, Jason tries to sound convincing. “I’ll stay away from the action. Spider-man is probably already on it or something. I have to make sure she’s safe.”
“I can’t convince you to stay, can I?”
“No,” he lies.
She nods stiffly, determination set in the line of her mouth. Before Jason can move off of her, he feels her hand slide off his shoulder, her elbow planting in the ground under her. Quick as lightning, she darts up and presses her lips to his cheek.
Jason’s world is thrown on its axis, suddenly soft and cinnamon-scented where it was harsh and unkempt. It almost makes him rethink his answer on staying.
But another crash comes from the street, carrying high-pitched laughter and sharp cries. Piper might need Jason, but the city needs Spider-man. He has a responsibility.
He pulls Piper to her feet alongside him and tries to ignore the way momentum carries her into his space. He’s never been happier for their height difference; it would be too easy to lean down and kiss her without it.
Instead Piper’s nose hits Jason’s collarbone, and he swears her lips brush his skin. He has to get out of here.
Unable to resist, he rests his hand on the side of her neck, tilting her chin up with his thumb. “It’s going to be okay. Text me when you’re home safe, yeah?”
Piper nods, and Jason tears out of the ruined cafe before he can do something stupid. Or rather, something more stupid than putting on spandex before charging headfirst at a supervillain in the street.
Jason doesn’t try to avoid Piper after that; it just sort of happens. Every time he looks at her, his eyes dart to her lips, bombarding his brain with thoughts of them on his skin. He’s thought about those lips and how they would feel on him more times than he cares to admit, and he can’t let go now that it’s from memory.
He shouldn’t be surprised when she blindsides him while he’s fixing his glasses (because this is the third pair this year and Thalia will kill him if he breaks another ) and corners him in the hall of the social sciences building.
One look at the bags under Piper’s eyes makes Jason’s heart clench. They’re dark, and on a better day where her eyes gleamed instead of glinting with hurt she would make a joke about them.
More than anything, Jason wishes he could be there for her. But Piper needs to find people to love who can be there for her like she deserves--people who don’t leave her alone in collapsed buildings to go save the world. She doesn’t deserve someone who would choose her over saving the world. She would never let them choose her. She deserves someone who never has to make that decision. Jason doesn’t let himself think about his hypothetical answer.
“Piper, I—”
“Am Spider-man.”
Jason blinks. “What?”
Piper crosses her arms. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me. You’re Spider-man, and Leo knows.”
“Pipes, I’m not a superhero,” Jason tries. He glances around the hallway, his eyes lingering on the conversation at the water fountain a few feet away.
“Look, I didn’t want to do this here, but you keep canceling plans and--”
Jason has two options:
- Attempt to lie his way through this conversation in the hallway, which is certain to anger Piper and escalate the volume of this extremely sensitive conversation.
- Ask Piper to come somewhere private and essentially concede the argument.
He looks back at her to find her eyebrows raised. He definitely just missed something important in his panic.
Shit.
“Can we—” Jason screws his eyes shut— “talk about this somewhere else?”
Piper grabs Jason by the hand and out of the hallway, marching him to an unfamiliar part of campus. They come to a stop several minutes later—Jason’s hand is embarrassingly clammy—in a bamboo garden Jason has never seen. Picnic tables are scattered around, separated by bamboo shoots and flower beds. Jason takes a moment to appreciate all the green and how the sunlight breaks through the leaves, illuminating Piper in a hot white midday shine. He suppresses the image of her studying out here on a different sunny day.
And then Jason remembers that he’s a dead man.
His hand aches with the loss of Piper’s when she tugs it away, clutching it to her chest like she’s been burned. The apology tumbles out of his mouth before he can catch it, and it hangs between them like an admission of guilt.
She eyes him, her guard clearly up. “You’re sorry for what?”
Piper has never looked at him this way—a mask of indifference peeling at the edges, exposing the raw hurt underneath. Jason never wants her to look at him this way again, never wants to hear her heart pick up with dread instead of hopeful anticipation.
He has only ever wanted to love her, so much so that he resigned himself to doing it from afar. But when faced with the very real possibility of losing her, Jason’s strength fails him.
“For lying,” he answers. “And for forcing Leo to lie, and for leaving you at the cafe, and for avoiding you…” There are so many apologies crawling up Jason’s throat.
I’m sorry for putting you in danger. I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to walk away. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—
“Why?” Her bottom lip trembles, but her voice is strong, her chin tipped up.
“Why am I sorry? Because you’re—”
“Why did you lie?” Piper closes her eyes, the rest of her unmoving. “That matters more to me than why you’re apologizing. I can see that you’re sorry. I need to know why you never told me.”
Here goes nothing.
“I didn’t tell anybody. Leo saw me on the ceiling in the suit. Thalia doesn’t know. Reyna figured it out on her own.” Recognition flickers in Piper’s brown eyes, but Jason blazes on. “If the wrong person figures out who I am… I can’t let that happen. You can stay mad at me for the rest of our lives and I’ll understand, but if you get hurt because of this…” Jason doesn’t let himself finish that sentence.
Piper’s fingers lace with his. Jason can’t bring himself to pull away. “Jason, I… I didn’t know.”
He nods. Looks at the floor. “No one was supposed to.”
“But you’re not alone now. Leo and I aren’t going to like, sprout wings and get matching bug powers, but I meant what I said about being here for you.”
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“Oh my god, Jason.” Piper squeezes his hand and steps closer, filling his nose with the sweet scent of her. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
“But you could—”
“Jason.” Piper’s voice grows firm. “I could die crossing the street. I would’ve died in that cafe if you hadn’t saved me. And you think I’m going to let you punish yourself for keeping the city safe? Absolutely not.”
“I can’t convince you otherwise, can I?” Jason asks.
Piper smiles, her hands squeezing his as her eyes gleam. “No.”
It takes Jason almost collapsing on the sidewalk for him to admit he needs help. His suit is torn near his collarbone, which is going to be a bitch to fix, as are the wounds beneath. Jason is honestly more upset about the suit.
He was slinging through the city after another tussle with the Green Goblin. This time the guy had those ninja star things Jason was too busy dodging to catch the name of. Or rather, trying to dodge. One left a nasty mark on his collarbone, narrowly missing his neck, while the others grazed his arms. It’s not the worst shape he’s left a fight in.
But swinging around New York takes a toll, and Jason’s blood is pumping fast from the adrenaline and the strain, which means he’s losing it faster.
A swing takes him too low, and he narrowly misses people on the street as his feet graze the pavement. Passersby pay him little to no mind as he reorients himself. (God, he loves New York.)
It dawns on Jason that he doesn’t have the strength to make it home right now. Not that he could walk in the door or sneak in the window without Thalia seeing him like this anyway.
This side of town is near campus though. Leo has a night class right now, but…
Jason rolls his shoulder and takes off for Piper’s dorm, cursing himself with every thwip and release.
The world is just a little sideways when he knocks his head against her window, praying he still sticks to the wall if he passes out. Does he still stick to things when he’s unconscious? What a time to realize he’s never tested that theory.
Before Jason gets his answer, Piper comes out of the bathroom, the corners of her mouth lifting in a confused smile before dropping harshly at the sight of Jason’s wounds. Regret gathers in Jason’s chest, and he’d have half a mind to leave if he could manage it. She only just found out he’s Spider-man and now he’s turning up at her dorm on the verge of collapse.
Piper’s hair falls over her shoulder in a wet braid, leaving the arm of his suit damp as she helps him into an armchair. Her breath is minty, and Jason feels a pang at the thought of interrupting her night.
“Please don’t freak out,” are the first words out of his mouth.
Piper laughs—a shrill, tense sound. “Why would I freak out? You’re Spider-man, and you just knocked on my fifth-story window and you’re bleeding. Nothing to freak out about.”
Jason tugs off the mask, gulping in the fresh AC. When he looks back at Piper, her eyes are locked on him. They dart from his mussed hair to his face, lingering on the bruises he’s sure are blooming.
“Oh my god, you’re Spider-man,” she whispers.
“Yup,” Jason groans.
“And you’re hurt.”
“Pipes, I—”
She bolts up. “Right! You’re hurt. Okay. My neighbor is a nursing major, so she probably has first aid? Wait here.”
Piper is gone before Jason can slow her down and back before he can worry. The lock clicks distinctly behind her.
Jason doesn’t realize his head has fallen until Piper’s hand slides behind his neck to lift it. Her face comes into focus slowly; first her eyes shining with concern, then her lips, the bottom one tugged between her teeth.
“What happened?”
“Got in a fight. You should see the other guy.”
“Jason, I swear to god.”
“I’ve been worse.”
“Oh, that makes me worry less.”
Jason takes her in then, realizes exactly how close they’re sitting as she looks down at him. He recognizes the fear in her eyes, understands exactly how terrifying it must be to see a friend looking the way Jason does now—all bloody and bruised—and takes her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he says with a slight squeeze.
Piper softens and unzips the first aid kit, moving a bit slower on account of her hand in his. “Don’t be. I’m glad you came here.”
She sets to work on him, her cheeks dark as she asks how to get the suit off and darkening by the second as they work to ease it down his torso. Still, there’s a methodical approach to this that’s almost scientific.
She clears her throat and busies herself with the wound care in her lap, giving Jason a moment to stare at the ceiling and pray for willpower before she settles in close. His face is on fire as her hair drops over her shoulder, the braid brushing against Jason’s chest.
He tucks it back without thought, only realizing his hand rests on her cheek when she turns to face him with wide eyes.
“Pipes…” Jason breathes. He should stop this. He should absolutely not be doing this. He would be better off jumping out the window right now.
Piper’s eyes dart to her hands on Jason’s injured chest, the bruise on his cheekbone, his eyes, and finally his lips. She inhales, and Jason swears she takes the breath from his lungs. He’d give it to her, if she asked.
And then she kisses him.
It’s soft and tentative, all hesitation and second-guessing until something in them breaks. Maybe it’s Jason’s hand in Piper’s hair, or maybe it’s the first aid kit clattering out of her lap, but the world stops, tilts on its axis and carries on at a new pace. Everything is slower here no matter how fast they move. All Jason feels is Piper.
Jason is the first to pull back. Something about the way her gaze lingered on his wounds raised a question he needs answered before continuing:
“Did you kiss me because I’m hurt?”
Piper laughs, her sharp exhale ghosting across Jason’s lips. She kisses him again, deep and intentional.
“I wanted to kiss you way before you were Spider-man. This—” her eyes dart shamelessly to his chest as she smirks— “this is just a happy coincidence.”
Jason pulls her down to him, wanting in that moment nothing more than to find out how that smirk feels pressed against his own beaming smile.
“Easy, Tiger,” she laughs, somehow talking and kissing at the same time. “Okay, okay.”
She pulls away this time, recollecting the first aid kit and looking at Jason in a way that says she means business .
“Text your sister that you’re staying with me tonight.”
Jason winces. “She is never going to shut up about it if I do.”
Piper raises an eyebrow. “Oh, that is something I have to hear about once you’re all patched up. But seriously, you’re not going anywhere. I’ve got some clothes here that’ll work, and there’s no way you’re swinging home with this shoulder. I’ll drive you if you have to go, but you will have to explain how you got those hickeys to your sister.”
“What hickeys?”
Piper’s grin is jackal.
“ Oh ,” Jason manages. “I’ll stay.”
“Good.” Piper sits up, clearly having gotten the answer she wants. “Now let’s get you in the shower. No way in hell you’re getting into bed smelling like that.”
Jason casts a glance at her twin bed. “I can honestly sleep here, it’s fine.”
That seems to be the final straw for Piper. “Jason, get in the damn shower so we can go to sleep. We can count the cafe as a date if it makes you feel better, and don’t make that face at me, because that’s totally what it was supposed to be before the building collapsed.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You really think I didn’t have the pound cake the day it came out? Oh, sweetheart.” Piper presses her thumb to the wrinkle between Jason’s brows, then kisses his forehead once he relaxes.
He listens to her heartbeat, how it slows in contentment despite the chaos he’s brought with him tonight, and he can’t help but pull her down for another kiss. He doesn’t allow himself to think about the danger outside of these walls. Right now, all that matters is Piper.