Chapter Text
Day One
“This is so cool!”
Ned had remarked on the supreme coolness of their situation when the bus dropped them at the front doors of OsCorp. He’d mentioned it again as their AP Chem class had gone through security and received their dosimeters and guest badges. And now he was saying it at every stop on their tour.
At the moment, the cool factor was bestowed upon the radioactivity lab which, Peter could admit, definitely lived up to the hype.
Mr. Harrington apparently knew someone who knew someone, and Peter, Ned, and the rest of their classmates were invited on a last-minute tour of the labs. Three days later, here they were, and Ned and Peter were geeking out. To be fair, they weren’t the only ones; most of the class had found at least one thing that made them sputter incoherently or hit their best friend in shock.
(“Ow, Ned!”
“Sorry, it’s just … the nanotechnology!”
“I know! Can you imagine what they’ll be doing in like, four years?”)
These scientists were working at the cutting edge of science, and Peter had never been so close to his dream as he was today. Give him a few years to finish high school and get his undergrad degree, and this is where Peter would be: making discoveries, working through problems, fixing the world.
Mr. Harrison’s friend was discussing how the OsCorp scientists were studying radioactive materials to determine if they could be used for more than just energy when Peter felt a tiny pinch on the back of his neck and an immediate sensation of pins and needles started to wash over his shoulders and down his arms, all the way to the tips of his fingers. Ned looked at him strangely as he started squirming, trying to shake off the feeling.
"You okay, man?” Ned whispered.
“Yeah,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Just suddenly got this weird feeling. Like someone’s walking over my grave or something.”
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, and roughly rubbed his arms, but the feeling kept moving, going down his back, wrapping around his chest, following the lines of his muscles down his legs and to his feet. It was like one, big, weird tickle all over his body. Peter squirmed, tensing and releasing his muscles, and squeezing his eyes shut. It wasn’t going away, but it also wasn’t getting any worse. It was just … weird.
As the tour continued, and Peter and Ned continued to geek out, the feeling abated somewhat, settling into a kind of tingling along his skin. Peter chalked it up to nerves and excitement at seeing his future in action, and grinned at Ned as they got back on the bus.
“Dude!” Ned was basically squealing.
“I know! Did you see the—“
“Quantum computer? Totally! And the way they—“
“Used all the electron states to just—“
Peter and Ned flopped into their seats on the bus, grinning at each other, the excited chattering of their classmates surrounding them as Mr. Harrison took a final head count. They hadn’t been able to stop grinning all morning. Peter’s cheeks were beginning to hurt.
“You’re all red, Penis,” Flash sneered from the front of the bus. “Science must really get you off, huh?”
As Flash got a dressing down from Mr. Harrington, Peter rolled his eyes. He was feeling kind of warm, and there was some sweat accumulating at his hairline and upper lip, but it was also about eighty degrees in the bus and he was wearing a jacket on this, one of the first chilly days of fall, so Occam’s Razor would suggest that he was just overdressed.
Taking what seemed like his first deep breath of the day, Peter pressed his head in the corner made by the seat and the window and closed his eyes, still grinning. He got to go to a real lab and geek out over real scientists doing the science he wanted to do one day in the future. And Flash got yelled at. Best day ever.
The rest of the school day passed by in a blur. Peter was exhausted. He hadn’t slept the night before, his mind running a million miles per hour thinking about the field trip and what they might see and experience. By the time they got back to school he was dragging, and skipped lunch to take a nap, squishing himself under the risers in the band room.
He’d almost fallen asleep again in Spanish, but he’d somehow managed to twitch awake right before a paper football flicked at him by Michelle—who sat behind him in class and had no problem keeping him on his toes—hit the back of his neck.
Since Fridays were May’s days for the swing shift at the hospital and Peter was left to fend for himself for dinner, he grabbed a sandwich from Delmar’s on his way home from school. Once he’d made it up the six floors to their apartment (the landlord kept saying he was going to fix the elevator, but it had been busted for going on four years now), he left it on the counter in the kitchen in favor of heading right to his room, collapsing on the bottom bunk and wrapping himself up like a burrito.
He snuggled into the blankets. He’d just take a quick nap before he started on his homework.
Day Two
Peter woke to his stomach trying to eat itself with hunger.
He squinted at his alarm clock, the display ridiculously bright in the dark room. It was two in the morning – he had slept for almost ten hours! And had completely missed dinner, no wonder he was hungry. He rolled out of bed, catching himself on the top bunk ladder as he fought through the dizziness that came from standing up too fast and on an empty stomach.
After a quick stop at the bathroom to pee and splash his face with water (and remove the contacts he’d completely forgotten to take out before falling asleep, and which now felt like little pebbles in his eyes), Peter inhaled his sandwich. It was his usual – a number 5 with extra pickles, squished down flat – but it wasn’t cutting it today. He rooted around in the fridge and found some leftover Pad Thai, which he washed down with a huge glass of milk. He must be getting ready for another growth spurt – this type of empty-stomach feeling only ever preceded a week or so of pain in his legs and a gain of another quarter-inch or so in height.
His hunger abated for now, he got a whiff of himself and realized that his tee-shirt was soaked through with sweat.
“Typical teenager today, aren’t you, Pete?” he asked himself sarcastically as he started the shower. “First you crash after school, then you eat May out of house and home, and now you smell like a locker room. Maybe on Monday you’ll actually be able to do a push up in gym class!”
He let the water drum against his sore muscles as he closed his eyes, wishing away the headache that had appeared out of nowhere. A quick application of shampoo and soap solved the smelly teenager problem, and Peter took great gulps of water as it rained down on his body and swirled around the drain. The water was cooling quickly, so he finished up and toweled off, running a cursory hand through his curls. Blearily he looked in the mirror, his face was flushed, despite the cooling water, and his eyes were glassy.
“Must’ve caught something,” he muttered, staggering back to his room and collapsing once again on the lower bunk. One whiff of the sweat-soaked sheets and he was back up, climbing precariously to the top bunk and flopping face-first into his pillow, towel wrapped partially around his waist. He fell asleep listening to sirens fading away into the night.
*
“Peter, honey.”
Peter made a noise of acknowledgement that in no way resembled the English language.
“Honey, I know it’s Saturday, but you need to get up now. It’s almost noon.”
Noon?
Peter blinked his eyes open. His head was buried under his pillow, which had blocked both the noise of the street and the light from the window. He had drenched his sheets (again), and was starving (again), but he finally felt like he’d made up for his brain going nuts the night before and not letting him sleep.
“Sorry, May,” he called, pulling on a pair of boxers before heading once again to the bathroom. He needed another shower, and then he needed food. And then he needed to do the homework he didn’t do the night before. “How was work last night?”
The apartment Peter and May shared was small enough that entire conversations could be held from one side of the space to the other, and neither would need to yell. Peter could hear May just fine over the noise of the shower, so he continued getting himself reasonably clean while his aunt told him about the funnier parts of her evening.
Once done in the shower (where the hot water had lasted all of five minutes), Peter pulled on sweats and a tee-shirt and headed into the kitchen, where May was plating some scrambled eggs and bacon. The toaster popped out two pieces as he hugged her from behind.
“This smells amazing,” he said, resting his forehead against her shoulder. She stopped what she was doing, and leaned against him for a second.
If you asked May to cook a turkey dinner for Thanksgiving, there was a 50/50 shot that the evening would either end in a visit from the fire department or that the bird would be raw when they sat down to eat it. But ask her to cook breakfast, and she could hold her own against three-star Michelin restaurants.
“Thank you, honey. I figured you’d be hungry after sleeping all morning.”
“I think I’ve got another growth spurt coming. I’ve been exhausted since yesterday, and I’m starving. I even woke up at two am and finished the Thai from the other night.” Peter grabbed the plates and sat down, passing her plate over once she had done the same.
“Is that where it went? Hmm. Well, I’ll keep that in mind when I go grocery shopping later. Craving anything special?”
“Nope. Just food. In large quantities.” He grinned at her, fork halfway to his mouth.
May laughed.
“Got it. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
"Homework. And laundry. I need to clean my sheets, d’you want me to do yours, too?”
“That’d be great. Throw in a load of towels, too, while you’re at it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Brat.”
“Love you, May!”
*
Peter groaned and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. He had written up his AP chem lab, and completed his AP physics and AP calculus problem sets. All he had left were the readings for English and history, and to study for his Spanish quiz on Monday, but he needed a break. He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, glancing around the room. He’d made both his beds up with clean sheets, and was just waiting for the dryer to finish his clothes before switching the load of towels from the washer. May was getting groceries, and he was hungry. Again. He was also kind of hot as well, but he figured it was just left over from whatever bug he had caught that made him sweat through two sets of sheets.
Standing up for the first time in two hours, he laughed at the loud pops his spine made as he stretched his back, then bent over to touch his toes before heading into the kitchen for sustenance. He noticed the kitchen cabinets were a little sticky, and made a mental note to run over them with some cleaning spray once he was done with this homework. As he was rustling in the cabinet for the chocolate chip cookies he’d noticed at breakfast, he heard his phone chime with a text alert. Balancing three cookies on top of a large glass of milk, with a fourth half eaten in his hand, he made his way back to the madness that was his bedroom.
14:39 Ned
dude
did you finish the calc ps?
14:41 Peter
Yup
Y?
14:41 Ned
in #3 do we have to do it the long way, or can we cheat?
14:42 Peter
long way
14:42 Ned
y teach us how to do it quick and then not let us??
14:43 Peter
no idea man
14:43 Ned
aggravating
14:43 Peter
same
movie later? i’ve got history and english left, but ill be done in an hour
14:45 Ned
sorry, man.
going to Lola’s for dinner tonite.
say hi to May for me!
14:46 Peter
will do.
tell Lola to save me some lumpia
14:46 Ned
no promises.
With one last sigh, Peter put down his phone and looked at his desk. He grabbed a quarter he kept on his desk for just these occasions.
“Okay. Heads it’s English, tails it’s history.”
He flipped, and groaned as he reached for Brave New World.
*
He’d been quizzing himself on his Spanish vocabulary when May called, telling him she needed help getting the groceries up the stairs. Peter slammed his Spanish book closed and slid his feet into sneakers, before leaving the door on the latch and heading down the hall, down the staircase to the parking garage reserved for tenants under the building. They didn’t use Ben’s old Volkswagen often, only really for major grocery trips and random day trips to get outside of the city, but their rent included one parking space, and it was pretty close to the west side staircase.
Sure enough, he found May sitting on the back bumper, hatchback open behind her, scanning her receipt and making a note on her phone. He quirked his eyebrow at the number of bags in the trunk.
“Is there an invasion no one told me about?”
“Mmm. Zombie apocalypse has started.”
“Oh, sweet! Chemical warfare gone wrong?” He reached into the trunk and pulled out six of the bags, and motioning May to keep loading him up.
“Something in the water,” she refuted, trying to balance three bags herself. Closing the trunk and hurrying around him to get to the door, May led the way up the stairs, pushing the door open with her backside and holding it for Peter with her foot.
“All joking aside,” he said as he carefully set down his bags, catching a few from overbalancing before they could roll off the counter and hit the floor, “this is a lot of food.”
“Well, you said growth spurt. The last time that happened, we actually ran out of food and you started to look like the cupboards themselves were fair game. I wanted to pre-empt something like that happening again.” May drew him into a hug, resting her chin on his head.
“Can we afford it?” He asked quietly. Since Ben had died, they were managing to live on a single salary in a small Queens apartment, but the tuition for Peter’s school was not cheap even with his scholarship, and there were still things like heat, clothes, and internet that needed to be paid for.
“You know I always buy the bargain brands, and use coupons,” May chided him, poking him a little in the side. He squirmed away from her fingers, trying to poke her back without leaving himself open to an attack. “It’s more important that you eat, sweets. We haven’t turned the heat on yet, so we’re coming out even.”
She backed up, eyeing him critically.
“Speaking of heat: you’re flushed and sweaty. Are you sick?”
Peter reached over for one of the bags and began unpacking.
“Maybe? I felt like this yesterday afternoon, too. I thought I had slept it off, but apparently not.”
“Alright then,” May stated. “Get out the chicken breasts. We’ll do chicken soup for dinner.”
“Oh, will we?” Peter joked as he put the frozen vegetables in the freezer. “Did we remember to get a new fire extinguisher after the last time we tried this?”
“Well, this time we know not to turn the oven up to 450. Isn’t that how science works? Make a change and see what happens?” May teased right back, pulling out a pot.
“Maybe we should read the recipe all the way through first,” Peter suggested, laughing when May threw a banana at him.
*
“This doesn’t suck,” Peter noted after his first sip. “Go us!”
May joined him in a celebratory high five over their meal of soup and buttered bread.
“Practice makes perfect,” she said, taking her own sip and raising her eyebrows, impressed. Not bad at all. “Any more homework to be done?”
“Nope,” Peter said between slurps. “Finished it. I was gonna study a little bit more for my Spanish quiz, but honestly, all I have the energy for at the moment is to sit on the couch and watch a movie.”
He got up to ladle more soup into his bowl. His stomach was like a bottomless pit today.
“Want some company?” May asked, smiling softly at him and dipping her bread into the dregs of her soup.
“That depends,” he said. “Do you have a movie preference?”
“Something we don’t have to think too hard about.”
“Star Wars?” He offered, hopefully.
“Rogue One?” She bargained.
“Done.”
*
Later, as he was snuggled under a blanket on the couch, his head on a pillow in May’s lap as she softly brushed her fingers through his hair, Peter smiled in contentment. This was all he needed, right here. His family, a full belly (finally!), and an easy night.
He fell asleep to the soothing beat of May’s heart.
Day Three
To say Peter woke up on Sunday would be a gross overstatement. He woke himself up with a full body shiver, finding himself still on the couch. It was dark, and May had gone to sleep hours ago. And although he had woken up freezing, he was sweating bullets and his throat was as dry as the desert.
Definitely caught something, he thought, as got up and stumbled to the bathroom, and then to the kitchen sink for some water. Clutching the blanket around himself like a cape, he gulped down two large glasses of water, bringing a third back to the couch with him. No sense in getting the sheets that he’d just cleaned all gross again.
He rolled onto the couch, and dropped once more into unconsciousness.
Day Four
Peter blinked his eyes open, the dream falling away.
“You’re awake,” May whispered, smiling in relief. He was using her lap as a pillow again, and she was pressing a cool washcloth to his forehead. It felt wonderful. He pressed more firmly into her lap.
“S’matter?” he asked groggily.
“You’ve been really sick, honey.”
Peter frowned and tried to speak, but realized his throat was too dry.
“Sit up slowly,” May instructed, supporting his back as he pushed himself into a seated position. “And sip this. Also slowly.”
She pressed a large glass of water into his hands and he did as requested. The water felt cool against his scratchy throat as he swallowed.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
“You’ve been … hmm. You fell asleep during the movie on Saturday night, and you’ve been in and out for the last two days.”
“Two days?”
“Mhmm,” May whispered. She felt his sweaty forehead with the back of her hand. “I called you out of school today. It looks like your fever finally broke.”
Now that Peter was awake, he could see the thermometer on the coffee table and the washcloths May had used to try to cool him off. May had a book open on the table, but only the light above the stove was lit. Peter looked around questioningly.
“Loud sounds and bright lights seemed to make you more uncomfortable,” May supplied. “When I was helping you to the bathroom yesterday, you winced every time light hit your eyes.”
Peter was mortified.
“Sorry you had to do that,” he mumbled, shifting to bury his head in her shoulder. His head was still pounding, and he felt weak as an infant.
“Honey, you were sick. Of course I was going to help.” May gently stroked his temple, the soothing motions making him sleepy once more. “You need to get some proper sleep tonight, but you also need to eat. How ‘bout some more chicken soup?”
“Mkay,” he whispered.
“Okay. Think you can hold yourself up while I go heat it up?”
“Mmm. Maybe in a minute.” He fell asleep between one breath and the next.
Day Five
Whomever invented the internal combustion engine needed to be put to death, Peter decided, trying to dig his head further under his pillow. Why did they have to be so damn loud?
“You’re completely out of your head for like, three days, and that’s the first coherent thing you say?”
Peter lifted his head from the couch cushions to see Ned sitting on the recliner in front of him, playing on his phone. Peter blinked at him.
“…I said that out loud?”
“You did,” Ned confirmed, continuing to fiddle with his phone. “Ha!”
He looked up.
“Sorry, just beat the Boss for level five. How’re you feeling, bro?”
“Really out of it. Hold that thought.” Peter got up quickly and made his way to the bathroom.
Returning, he noticed a lack of May in the apartment.
“May?” He asked, sitting on the couch, head in his hands. Just the trip to the bathroom had been exhausting.
“Had to go into work,” Ned said. He pointed to several bottles of Gatorade on the table. “You need to drink at least two of those before you do anything else.”
Peter lifted a bottle obligingly, toasting Ned.
“You’re my doctor now?”
“May’s orders,” Ned said, leaning back in his chair. “She said you haven’t eaten since Saturday, and you need to get your electrolytes up. Then I’m supposed to feed you chicken soup?”
“Yeah, we made it yest… Saturday. Wow. I was pretty sick, huh?” Peter had never been quite this sick before. His inability to account for days at a time was disconcerting.
“Dude. She asked me to come over and sit with you once school was over cause she didn’t want you to be alone all day.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Of course. But Peter, seriously, how did you get that sick? Last time we texted you seemed fine!”
“Dunno, man. Hit me all at once on Saturday.”
Ned turned to the TV.
“Want to watch a movie?”
“No!” Ned looked at Peter in surprise.
“It’s just, I’m having an issue with bright lights. Gives me a headache, and I don’t really want to deal with that on top of everything. Can we just talk? How was school the past two days?”
Ned shrugged.
“It was school. Señora Flores says you can make up your quiz whenever you get back. And I brought your homework for you.”
“Appreciate it, man.”
“Flash was being a dick to an underclassman and Michelle cut him down to size in the middle of the hallway. That was pretty fantastic.”
Peter smiled, and put down the empty Gatorade bottle. The packaging was weirdly sticky, and he had to shake his hand a bit for it to drop onto the table.
“Sweet.”
“Right?!”
After he finished the second Gatorade, Peter invited Ned to stay for a Chicken Soup dinner. The two did their homework together into the evening, Ned going over anything Peter had missed, until May got home and relieved Ned from nurse duty, bringing a box of cookies for him in payment for services rendered. Peter looked at the cookies sadly, still starving, but knowing he probably shouldn’t start off with cookies after not eating solids for 72 hours.
“Gonna be in school tomorrow, dude?” Ned asked as he packed up his school bag.
“I don’t know…” May started.
“May, please?” Peter begged. “You know how bored I get when I can’t do anything. I haven’t had a fever in over twenty-four hours, and I’ve stayed up all afternoon! I even cleaned the kitchen!”
“It’s true, May,” Ned agreed. “He didn’t fall asleep or drift off once. And he was a maid with a mission. I don’t mind grabbing his homework if you don’t want to risk it, though.”
“Hmm. We’ll see how you feel tomorrow. I’ll say yes on the provision that I get to make the final say tomorrow morning. Deal?” She raised her eyebrow at Peter.
“Deal,” he agreed. He turned to Ned.
“I’ll text you and let you know.”
“Feel better, dude,” Ned called as he left the apartment.
As the door shut behind him, May looked critically at her nephew.
“How are you really?” She asked, one hand going to his forehead and the other wrapping him in a hug. “I was really worried about leaving you today. You were not well.”
Peter leaned into the hug.
“I’m … better? Not one hundred percent,” he admitted. “I still have a headache, and the lights and sounds are still bugging me, but I’m more hungry than tired now. And I don’t think I feel hot anymore.”
“No,” May agreed, letting him go. “You’re not feverish. How about some toast and eggs for now? You need protein and carbs. And maybe the food will help the headache.”
“Mmm. Thanks, May,” Peter grinned.
“You also stink, kid. Go shower and I’ll start on the food.”
“So bossy,” he said as he made his way to the bathroom.
“Assertive!” she corrected. “And I will be equally assertive tomorrow if I don’t think you should go to school.”
“May, I’ll be fine!”
Day Six
Peter was not fine.
If he’d thought internal combustion engines were bad, New York Subway trains were worse. The screeching sounds the train made on the track, the air compressors for the brakes, and, of course, the noise of thousands of New Yorkers trying to get somewhere at the same time made for a very loud commute. Peter had stuck his ear buds in as usual, and tried to concentrate only on his music, but couldn’t quite block out the rest of the world; he was jumping at every sound, and his headache was coming back by the time he made it to school.
His classes were no different than usual, even if someone had come through and changed out all the lightbulbs for newer, brighter ones while he was away. He took the time to check in with his teachers after each class and turn in his missed work, and if that meant that the hallways were a little less crowded and noisy than they could have been, then that was just a bonus.
By the time lunch rolled around, Peter was starving. He was standing at the cafeteria doors, weighing his need for food against his need for just fifteen minutes of sweet, blessed quiet, when he heard footsteps coming up behind him.
“Hey, loser.”
“Michelle,” he acknowledged, still standing at the doors, wincing each time they swung open and the din inside grew louder. He really didn’t want to go in, but through the glass he could see Ned already seated at their regular table.
“Feeling okay?” she asked.
Peter turned and actually looked at her. This was new.
“What?”
“You were out yesterday and the day before,” Michelle shrugged. “Not a big jump to imagine that you’re not at one hundred percent yet. You’ve also been standing at the doors for about five minutes, so you’re either out of it, or wondering if you should skip lunch to take a nap.”
“I didn’t realize you’d noticed,” Peter admitted. “Me not being here, I mean.”
“You sit in front of me in Spanish, dude. I noticed the lack of your head.”
Peter nodded. That made sense.
“It’s not that I want a nap, although that sounds amazing right now. It’s that I’ve had a headache all day, and the cafeteria is really loud and bright. If I go in, it’s just going to make it worse.” He leaned against the wall, resting his head back and closing his eyes. He was pretty tired. Maybe he should take a nap.
“So don’t go in,” Michelle suggested. “Go eat in a stairwell or something.”
“Ned’s in there, and I left my phone in my locker,” Peter explained. “Also, we’re not allowed to eat anywhere but the cafeteria.”
“Do you need to grab lunch?” She asked.
Peter shook his head, lifting the brown bag he was worrying with his hands. Michelle raised her finger, asking him wordlessly to wait, and then she swung through the doors like she owned the place, and strode over to Ned.
Peter watched as she approached him from behind, patting his back to get his attention before swinging around in front of him and perching on the corner of the table. Ned jumped as she appeared out of nowhere, fumbling the carrot sticks he was eating as she started to talk.
Yo. Your boy needs you.
Ned said something, probably “huh?” to which Michelle replied.
Parker. He doesn’t want to come in; says it’s too loud and bright. But he wants to eat with you.
She motioned with her chin towards the door. Peter waved sheepishly as Ned peered over his shoulder. Eyes wide, he started packing up.
“Dude, why didn’t you tell me?” Ned exclaimed as he pushed through the door.
“Didn’t realize it until I was standing here,” Peter said, as they turned to find somewhere quiet to sit. “My head hurts, and … wait.”
He turned back to the cafeteria doors, eyes finding Michelle, still perched on their table.
Thank you, he smiled. Wanna come with? He asked, motioning to the hall.
She rolled her eyes, and made her way out of the cafeteria.
“So yeah, my head hurts,” Peter continued. “Can we go somewhere quiet?”
“And dark?” Ned asked, knowingly.
“Well, less bright, anyway,” Peter agreed. They both turned to Michelle.
“Stacks in the library,” she said definitively as she caught up to them and took the lead. “No one goes there, and it’s definitely dark.”
“But again, we’re not supposed to eat anywhere but the cafeteria. I think that goes double for the library,” Peter noted as he and Ned hot footed to keep up with her.
“Do you always follow the rules, Parker?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Um, yeah, mostly,” Peter said. Ned nodded.
“Well, it's a brave new world, nerds.”
*
Michelle apparently had an in with the librarian, as they were greeted with a smile.
“Hi, Ms. Peterson,” Michelle whispered.
The librarian raised her eyebrows at the presence of students other than Michelle, but waved them all to the door to the stacks.
“No food near the books, boys,” she warned, turning back to her computer. Peter and Ned waved, and hurried to keep up with Michelle, who was forming a little picnic area at the very back of one of the stacks.
Peter made quick work of his sandwich and was making a strong start on the protein bar he had brought with him, while Ned had finished up his carrot sticks and moved on to his main course, which looked like some kind of fish on rice. Michelle, on the other hand, had sat down and promptly buried her nose in a history of the American Civil Rights Movement book they had passed on their way to the back of the room while idly eating an apple she had unearthed from her messenger bag.
Peter laid his head back against some of the spines on the shelf, closed his eyes, and sighed. Michelle was right. The library was quiet. So quiet the only thing to hear was their chewing, and the occasional rustle as Michelle turned a page. It was the first time all day he had felt calm. He rubbed his eyes and his temples, trying to make his headache go away through sheer force of will.
“Are your contacts bugging you?” Ned asked.
“I’m not wearing them,” Peter said, opening his eyes. “Why?”
“Just thought they might be why you have a headache. Maybe your prescription’s off.”
“You’re not wearing them?” Michelle questioned. “Do you not need them all the time?”
“No, I … do?” Peter trailed off.
His eyes were terrible. Everyone in his family had horrible eyesight. He had been wearing glasses since he was six. He turned to look at Ned, who was looking back at him just as stupefied.
“How can you need glasses one day but not the next?” Ned asked. As one, they turned to look at Michelle.
“Do I look like an ophthalmologist to you?” she asked. “I don’t know, dude!”
Peter winced as she got louder.
“That’s another thing,” she lowered her voice. “Why are you all of a sudden super sensitive to light and sound?”
“I’ve got a headache,” Peter started.
“You’ve had a headache for three days, bro. After like, three hours, it stops being a headache and starts becoming a problem.”
Peter shrugged.
“I don’t know, man. I’ve taken ibuprofen but it hasn’t done anything. Kinda made it worse, actually. I’ve felt off ever since the field trip. I just figured I caught something.”
“You caught something from a science lab?!” Ned squealed. “Maybe you’re like, radioactive now!”
“That would not work out well in our favor,” Michelle pointed out dryly, shifting slightly away.
“Shut up, Ned,” Peter muttered. “I’m not radioactive-”
“That you know of,” Ned stated ominously.
“I just have a cold,” he continued.
“Dude, yesterday was worse than a cold,” Ned pointed out.
“If either of you get me sick, I’m going to kill you,” Michelle stated, using her book as some kind of face shield.
“The flu then,” Peter allowed. “But not radioactivity.”
“Still doesn’t fix your situation with noise and light,” Michelle pointed out. “Especially since we have gym next period.”
Ned and Peter groaned.
“Here,” she said, handing Peter a pair of glasses from her bag. “They’re blue light glasses. I get eye strain when I read from a screen too much, and these help. Maybe they’ll cut some of the bright light.”
Ned snapped his fingers and dove into his own backpack.
“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time before,” Peter commented, taking the glasses. He hurried to continue when she started to look annoyed. “But thank you.”
“Sure,” she said.
“Here,” Ned handed Peter a handful of very squished orange things. “They’re those ear plugs you get at places with loud machinery. Maybe if you shove them in your ears before gym class, Mr. Bozeman’s whistle won’t be so bad.”
“And you can ignore Flash,” Michelle noted.
Peter smiled.
“You guys are the best.”
“Hey, Michelle?” Ned asked warily. She raised her eyebrow.
“Why are you here? I mean, it’s not like we don’t appreciate the help, we totally do, but you usually keep to yourself, and-”
“Maybe I turned over a new leaf,” Michelle suggested airily. Ned and Peter looked doubtful.
“It was weird. Not seeing you everywhere,” she said uncomfortably. “And him wandering around like a lost puppy without you.”
Ned started to look outraged, and then nodded in agreement. He and Peter were the other’s only real friend in this school. It was hard when one of them wasn’t around.
“And I don’t really do,” she made an all encompassing motion with her hand holding the apple, “People. In general. But you two are the least disagreeable ones I know.”
“Thanks?” Ned asked. There was a compliment in there somewhere.
“And,” she huffed. “I could maybe be okay with having a …"
“Friend?” Peter supplied, slyly.
“Person,” Michelle emphasized. “People. Two of them. To talk to around here. From time to time. When I’m not busy doing literally anything else.”
“People to talk to. In high school. Sounds like the definition of ‘friend’ to me,” Ned said dryly, complete with sarcastic quote marks.
“Me, too,” Peter agreed, reaching for the last of his lunch.
Michelle buried her nose back in her book.
“Nope,” she said. “Just a fellow traveler, trying to get through high school alive.”
“Whatever you say, friend,” Peter said, closing his eyes for a bit longer before gym.
“Mhmm,” Ned agreed, going back to his lunch.
Peter listened to the sounds of Ned’s lunch, of Michelle’s page turning, and concentrated on slowing his breathing. He heard their heartbeats, slow and steady, so close to his own. Michelle’s breath hitched when she got to an interesting part in her book. Ned was humming softly under his breath. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.
*
Gym class didn’t completely suck.
Flash made fun of the blue light glasses, but Ned’s ear plugs did, in fact, muffle Mr. Bozeman’s whistle, as well as the squeaks of a bunch of teenagers running around the perimeter of the gym to warm up.
“Ned?” Peter started as they began lap four.
Ned looked at him in lieu of answering, his breath coming in pants.
“This… isn’t as hard as it usually is.”
Peter was not panting. He was barely breaking a sweat.
“I have no idea why,” he shrugged. “But I’m not even breathing heavily.”
Ned nodded and waved his hand, encompassing Peter’s almost lazy demeanor. They caught up to Michelle again, lapping her for a second time. Michelle was not running. Mr. Bozeman had pretty much given up on her doing any kind of athletic activity at all.
“You okay?” She asked, as he slowed to her pace. Ned moved to the side, resting his hands on his knees. He motioned to them to keep going without him.
"Yeah. It’s weird. Usually, I’m right there with Ned.” They looked back at the boy in question, who was gradually getting his breath back. “Normally my asthma doesn’t let me run for very long at all.”
Michelle looked at him as if he were a puzzle.
“You’re not acting like you have asthma,” she noted.
“I don’t currently feel like I have asthma,” Peter stated. “I’m starting to freak myself out.”
Mr. Bozeman blew his (muffled) whistle again, and they split into pairs for sit-ups. Ned, still getting his breathing under control, held Peter’s feet.
“Dude,” Peter whispered as Ned began to count. “These aren’t hard either.”
“Well, make it look like they are, otherwise there are going to be questions,” Ned hissed. Michelle looked over at them with a calculating look on her face.
The rest of gym class progressed the same way. Things that were hard last week were not. Peter found he could do push-ups, which up until now had been his gym class nemesis. Fortunately, Peter’s increasing confusion at what he was now capable of served to mask the fact that he suddenly had athletic abilities of any kind.
When they played Dodge Ball, Peter realized that, while he could still calculate the trajectories of the balls in his head almost before they were thrown, he could now move out of the way fast enough that he could stay in the game for longer than fifteen seconds. He stepped in front of the balls aimed at Ned and Michelle instead and got himself out as quickly as possible. This was not missed by either Ned or Michelle, who looked at him with increasing worry as the games progressed.
As they left the gym at the end of the period, Michelle pulled them aside.
“Meet me after school in the library,” she said. “Same place.”
Peter and Ned nodded quickly, then made their way to the locker rooms.
“Why didn’t you tell me you started working out?” Ned hissed as they left a few minutes later. “I saw those abs before the t-shirt came down, man. I say this as a straight dude: they’re pretty awesome.”
“Ned,” Peter started, putting his hand out to stop his friend. “I haven’t been working out. I haven’t been running, or doing anything that would make gym class easier. What the hell is wrong with me?”
*
“We need a list,” Michelle said as made space for herself to sit down. “Of all the weird shit that’s been going on with you.”
“Okay.” Peter had hit up the vending machine before stuffing his homework in his backpack and making his way to the library. He dumped his haul in front of Ned and Michelle, taking a Snickers for himself.
Michelle pulled her sketch book out of her messenger bag and flipped to a new page. Peter tried to catch a glimpse of her work, but she was too quick.
“Start at the beginning,” she ordered, pencil in hand.
“I started feeling weird after the field trip,” Peter started.
“No, man, you told me you felt like someone was walking over your grave while we were still in OsCorp, remember?” Ned interrupted.
“He’s right,” Peter said, looking to Michelle.
“What do you mean, ‘walking over your grave?’”
“It was like, pins and needles, but it like, washed down my whole body? Started at the back of my neck, and made its way down. And then it felt weird. Like, tingly, for the rest of the day.”
Michelle made a note.
“What else?”
“It was hot on the bus,” Peter mused, “but I was wearing a jacket and the bus was like, eighty degrees, so-“
“No, it wasn’t,” Ned interrupted again.
“Huh?”
“It wasn’t hot, bro. It was actually kind of cool, because the door was open for a while. Cindy was sitting at the front and she put her gloves on.”
“That… huh. Maybe I already had a fever then?”
“Maybe,” Ned shrugged, pawing through the candy stash and selecting a bag of M&Ms.
They continued to walk through Peter’s week, with Ned supplying information or clarifying when needed. Once they had remembered as much as they could, they looked over Michelle’s list. It wasn’t much.
“I dunno, dude,” Ned shook his head. “The flu could maybe explain the bright lights and loud noises bothering you. And extreme hunger afterwards, cause you didn’t eat anything for two days. But you’re still hungry. Maybe it’s all this random muscle gain you’ve got going on?”
“I guess,” Peter laughed. “Looking at it written down, it’s like, everything is just… more. Like, you tell me the lights are the same as they always were, but they seem really bright to me. And I can see without my glasses. We’re here in the quietest part of the school that Michelle knows of, and I can still hear a ticking clock, the boiler going on, the doors closing to the auditorium, and get this: I can hear your heartbeats.”
Ned and Michelle looked up at him in shock.
“Seriously?” Michelle asked. “You can hear our heartbeats from all the way over there?”
“Yup,” Peter confirmed, leaning once more against the bookshelf. “I fell asleep to my Aunt May’s over the weekend. It was nice. Steady. I was able to just concentrate on her heart beat, and ignore all the noise from the street.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re so jumpy?” Ned asked. “You’ve been jumping at every noise. The ones I can hear, anyway. Maybe it’s just like, overstimulation, or something?”
“Maybe,” Peter shrugged. “Still don’t know why all this is happening, though. The flu doesn’t normally produce muscles and the ability to pass gym. Or cure asthma.”
“If it’s a new strain, I volunteer as tribute,” Ned joked. Peter smiled.
“Um,” Michelle had taken out her phone and was staring intently at the screen. “Do you remember where you were on your tour when you felt the pins and needles thing?”
“No idea,” Peter shrugged. He looked at Ned.
“The radioactivity lab,” Ned said, firmly. “They are doing awesome things with using radioactivity for more than just energy. I remember ‘cause I was looking at my dosimeter when you did that full body shudder, and you said it felt like someone walked over your grave, and it made me think of Chernobyl. Why?”
He turned to Michelle, who was biting her lip. She handed Peter her phone.
“You should probably read this.”
Ned leaned closer and Peter held the phone between them. Michelle had found OsCorp’s public website, and scrolled to the different research topics OsCorp scientists were pursuing.
“OsCorp has been funded by a private donor to explore the possibilities of radioactive manipulation of DNA to form enhanced lifeforms,” Ned read. “Currently, the work has been restricted to the class arachnid and order araneae of the animal kingdom. Using radiation, scientists have modified spiders to enhance desired genetic traits like strength, sensory perception, and healing factors, and then bred them with each other to form a type of super-spider.”
Peter looked wide-eyed at Ned as he continued.
“These super-spiders are a gateway to future testing on humans, and may one day lead to exciting possibilities for the human race,” Ned looked at Peter. “Dude. Did a spider bite you while we were at OsCorp?”
Peter shook his head.
“I don’t think... maybe?” He felt the back of his neck. “I felt a pinch at the back of my neck right before I got the pins and needles. But it didn’t hurt or anything. Look and see?”
He turned his back to Ned and lifted his curls off his collar.
“I think you did, man,” Ned said. “There’s a little red mark. Barely noticeable, but it’s there. Look.”
Michelle leaned over and gently brushed his neck. It sent tingles down his spine.
“It’s raised a bit, too,” she commented.
“What the hell?” he whispered. “Am I seriously radioactive right now? I can’t go home like this. May! Oh my god, has May been affected? Have YOU?”
Peter pushed himself backwards away from Michelle and Ned and curled himself into a ball, pressing his face into his knees.
“Woah! Peter,” Michelle started, but Peter kept muttering under his breath, and began rocking back and forth.
Michelle looked at Ned and they scooted forward at the same time, each taking a hand and squeezing.
“Peter, listen to me,” Michelle soothed. “I need you take a deep breath with me, can you do that?”
He shook his head, gasping for breath as tears began to creep down his cheeks.
“Peter,” Ned said sharply. “Tell me five things you can see.”
Peter’s eyes swung wildly around the alcove.
“Books,” he gasped.
“Good. Four more,” Michelle said, squeezing his hand.
“You two. Candy. Backpack.” His voice was a little steadier, his breathing a little slower.
“Good. Tell me four things you can feel,” Ned smiled at him, squeezing the hand he was holding.
“Your hands. The floor,” Peter paused and took in a huge breath. “My sweatshirt.”
“Doing great, Pete,” Ned said. “Three things you can hear.”
“Your heartbeats,” Peter whispered immediately. “The heat coming on.”
“Two things you can smell,” Ned prompted.
“Metal. Cleaning supplies.”
“Awesome. Good to know they clean the stacks,” Michelle commented. “One thing you can taste, Peter.”
“Chocolate,” he smiled. He took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Peter leaned more heavily into Ned’s side, closed his eyes, and released his breath, but did not let go of either hand.
Michelle looked at Ned over Peter’s head, a question in her eyes.
“After his uncle died, Peter had some serious anxiety. In that case, it was separation anxiety, but it led to occasional anxiety attacks if life is overwhelming. The five senses thing usually gets him to focus.”
Michelle nodded, filing the information away. She turned and began cleaning up their area with one hand, returning her sketchbook to her bag and wadding up the candy wrappers, while squeezing Peter’s hand gently with the other. When she was done, she gave one final squeeze.
“Want to go home?” she asked him quietly. Peter nodded, sniffling into Ned’s shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet and pulled Ned and Michelle up behind him. Swallowing hard, he dropped their hands and put his backpack on.
“Will you walk with me?” He asked softly.
“Of course,” Ned said quickly.
“Sure,” Michelle said, reaching for his hand again. “On one condition.”
Peter and Ned looked at her questioningly, and she took a deep breath while twining her fingers with Peter’s.
“My friends call me MJ,” she said quickly.
Ned snorted, and began leading the way out of the library.
“I thought we were just ‘people?’” He asked, complete with sarcastic quote marks.
“Shut up, loser.”
She stuck her tongue out at his retreating back. Ned turned around and smiled.
“Sure thing, MJ.”
Peter just squeezed her hand and kept walking.
Day Seven
Thursday did not suck as much as Wednesday, if only because Peter kind of knew what was coming.
He was able to get home by wearing the ear plugs and some sunglasses Ned had found in the bottom of his bag, and squeezing MJ’s hand when it got to be too much. He and Ned said good bye to her at their subway stop, and walked the rest of the way home discussing minute details of the Star Wars universe. They finished their homework together while they waited for May to get back from work.
Peter fell asleep immediately after dinner. When he awoke to sirens at one am, he listened hard until he could hear May’s soft, rhythmic heartbeat through their shared wall. He fell asleep again, and managed to sleep until his alarm in the morning (which he quickly turned down). He made sure to pack his own sunglasses, the ear plugs, and an extra lunch for school that day, and managed his classes by keeping the ear plugs in, wearing MJ’s blue light glasses, and stopping at his locker for a snack when he felt hungry. He also passed his make-up Spanish quiz, finished his physics problem set in class, and made a strong start on his history homework while having lunch in the library again with MJ and Ned.
It was waiting for Decathalon practice to start that Ned asked the question.
“Do you think you’re going to be able to make a web? Or! Maybe you’ll lay eggs!”
Peter looked at Ned while wiping his hands on a wet wipe he had stolen from chemistry. He had been feeling sticky residue on everything he touched lately, and didn’t really want to think about all the gross things that could be growing on the surfaces of the school.
“...what? Also, shh!” Peter looked around the classroom, but everyone seemed to be in their own worlds as they waited for Mr. Harrington to show up and get practice started. MJ plopped herself down next to him with a sigh.
“’Sup, nerds?” she asked, pulling out her book and burying her nose in it immediately. She clearly neither wanted nor expected a reply. Peter smiled at her.
“Hey, MJ,” Ned nodded, then turned back to Peter. “Well, spider, right? Don’t spiders lay eggs? And they definitely make webs, so...” he held out his hand as if to say ‘Ta-dah!’
“Only female spiders lay eggs, Ned,” MJ said without looking up.
Ned looked at Peter consideringly.
“No!” Peter squirmed. “I’m not... there’s nothing... Ned! I’m not going to –”
He realized how loud he was getting and looked around the room. Only Flash had looked over, but when Peter caught his eyes, he just made a disgusting motion with his fingers and tongue. Peter looked away quickly.
“I’m not going to lay eggs, dude,” he hissed.
Ned voiced his doubt with a single murmur.
“What about the webs, though?”
“I … hmm,” Peter considered it. “Maybe? I mean, I hope that webs don’t like, come shooting out of my body or anything, ‘cause that would be weird. And potentially kind of gross. But maybe I could figure out how to make a web in chem?”
“Why though?” MJ asked, finally looking at them and joining the conversation. “What’s the point? What are you doing, dude?”
Peter was picking up the homework he had scattered on his desk, and moving his pencil with his finger, searching for something.
“I’m trying to find whatever the hell I have on me that has been making me sticky all day,” he exclaimed. “I feel like I ate jelly and smeared some on my hands, and everything’s sticking to me! Paper, pens and pencils, hell, I even stuck to my desk for a second in AP calc.”
“You stuck to your desk?” Ned laughed, eyebrows creased.
“You didn’t see me start to get up to turn in the homework and then randomly stop and talk to Mike?” Peter asked. “I couldn’t get my hand off my desk for almost a minute! It was weird as hell.”
MJ was quiet for a moment, thinking, then whispered.
“Spiders stick to stuff, don’t they? I mean, they aren’t as beholden to gravity as we are. They walk up walls and stuff.”
Peter and Ned looked at her, then as one, the three of them looked down at Peter’s hand. He placed his finger on one of his homework assignments and lifted his hand.
Nothing.
“One more try,” Peter whispered.
He placed his finger on his paper, and pulled back gently before lifting his finger.
The paper stuck as if there was a piece of double-sided tape between Peter’s finger and the paper. Wide-eyed, they looked at each other. Peter quickly placed his finger back on the table and pushed it forward a bit. The paper released.
MJ motioned to the space in front of her, which was clear of scholarly debris. Peter placed his whole hand down in front of her and pulled back gently.
The table squeaked as it was pulled over the linoleum.
“Alright, everyone! Sorry I’m late, there was an incident with a beaker and an unexpected exothermic reaction,” Mr. Harrington called as he entered the room. “Let’s get some drills going.”
Peter, Ned, and MJ looked at each other.
After, MJ mouthed. Ned and Peter nodded, and Peter carefully lifted his hand from in front of her.
*
They made an interesting picture: three students in their coats and backpacks in an alley, standing about a foot from one of the brick facades of their school, staring straight up.
“I’m not sure what you want me to do, here,” Peter said doubtfully.
“Just... climb?” Ned suggested.
“Just climb,” Peter repeated, nodded. “Sure. No problem. I only just figured out how to climb the rope in gym, and I peaked about four feet off the ground!” Peter thought for a moment. “Although, I might be able to go higher now.”
“Give me your backpack,” MJ ordered, taking the handle as Peter slid out of it. She walked to the front of the alley and looked up and down the street. “All clear.”
Peter looked at Ned, who shrugged.
He put his hands on the brick above his head and pulled gently. His biceps and back strained for a minute, but his toes lifted off the ground. Peter made eye contact with both Ned and MJ, and started to climb, using his feet, which slipped and slid on the bricks. He dropped to the ground and removed his shoes, leaving his socks, and tried again. This time, he was able to use his fingers and toes to grip and propel himself upwards. Within ten seconds, he was at the top, looking down at them from the roof.
Ned and MJ were looking up at him in shock.
“Move back, Ned,” Peter called softly. Ned backed up against the other wall of the alley. Peter looked at MJ, his eyebrow quirked. She checked the street again, then nodded.
Peter jumped over the side of the roof, fell towards the building on the other side of the alley and pushed off the wall, landing softly where Ned had been standing.
“What the hell, dude?” Ned gasped. “I didn’t actually think that was going to work!”
“Me either,” Peter admitted, as he put his shoes back on.
“Are you okay after that jump? The building is at least fifty feet high,” MJ hurried over from the alley entrance.
“Fifty point four feet,” Peter corrected her. “Each floor is approximately … never mind, not important. I barely felt it. And... it was like time slowed down? Or my brain started working faster? Like, I calculated the trajectory of where I was going to push off the wall, where I was going to land, and how much I needed my knees to give for safety almost as soon as I left the roof.”
Ned was quiet, his eyes moving from the top of the school to the building next door.
“Ned?” Peter asked as he took his back pack back from MJ.
“You know how we were talking about webs?” Ned asked.
Peter looked at MJ.
“Yeah, why?”
“How do you feel about heights?”