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“Hey, Pete, are you afraid of spiders?” Delmar asks from behind the counter. As the question flies through the air, Peter has five thoughts within the next split second.
- Yes. He is very afraid of spiders. Has been since the bite.
- But, what if Mr. Delmar is afraid of spiders?
- And what if there’s a spider that Mr. Delmar needs someone to get rid of? Because he’s too scared to do it himself?
- Peter can suck up his fear of spiders if it means helping a friend.
- So he lies.
“No, I’m not,” he says, handing Delmar a five dollar bill. Delmar smiles and gives him a sandwich wrapped in tin foil in exchange.
“Good to know. My niece got a pet tarantula last week, but her mom won’t let her have it in the house. Would you want it?”
Peter froze, appetite dissapearing. “A tarantula?”
“Yeah. She’s a weird kid, likes creepy crawlies,” Delmar laughed, “It’s already got a tank and everything, and you’d honestly be doing me a favor taking it. I can’t listen to my sister complaining about it that much longer before I lose it.”
“A tarantula,” Peter repeats, holding the sandwich. Delmar shoots him a funny look.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it ?”
Peter clears his throat, “Yeah, yeah, you did, um-” He sucks in a breath, “I’ll have to ask May, but-”
“C’mon, she’d be fine with it,” Delmar says, “You told me last week she was setting the roaches outside instead of killing them.”
“Yeah,” Peter says, “She did do that.”
He’d be doing a friend a favor. Taking the spider would be a nice thing to do, and he doesn’t even have to keep it long. Just for a week or so- then he can find a new home for it so Delmar doesn’t have to.
“Whaddya say, kid?”
“Yeah, I’ll- I’ll take it.”
-
It’s a pink toe tarantula. It’s tiny, as far as tarantulas go. Black body and legs with little pink hairs and little pink patches at the ends of its feet. According to google, the thing eats bugs, and if it gets big enough, roaches. Or even mice. Yeesh.
“I’m only keeping it for a little while,” he explains to May as he holds the small tank at arm’s length. “I’m gonna ask around school, but honestly Mr. Delmar said he just needed it gone, so I figured I’d help him-”
“Oh, goodness !” May coos, bending close to the glass. “What a cutie! Oh, Peter, we have to keep him!”
“What? I-”
“Having a pet will be good for you! And he’s so, so cute , isn’t that right little guy?” she says, smiling against the glass. The spider moves slowly up the side of the tank, and Peter’s hands start to shake at the sight of it.
“A- a pet- May, this isn’t a pet it’s a bug , an arachnid- ”
“So are you, aren’t you?” May straightens and ruffles his hair before taking the tank from his hands. “We’ll let him stay in the living room, how about that?”
Well, at least that’s better than Peter’s night stand. “Yeah, um, sound’s… sounds good, I guess-”
“What are you gonna name it?” May asks. She places the tank on the dining room table behind the couch. They never eat there anyways, usually in the kitchen or on the living room floor, but Peter internally vows to never eat at that table again, anyways.
“Name it?”
“Yeah, name it. Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl? What does it eat? Will it be warm enough in the apartment, do you think? I know you get cold in the winter, so I was wondering if this little guy shares the same traits-”
“May, May, I’m not gonna- I’m not gonna name it, I’m not keeping it.”
May whirls to look at him with a frown. “What? Why not?”
“I’m just helping Delmar find a new home for it. Someone else will take really good care of it, better care than me.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the spider retreating into a piece of hollowed tree bark. The sight makes him shudder.
“Oh,” May says. “If that’s what you want.” She sounds disappointed. “But if you changed your mind, I wouldn’t mind if it stayed with us.” She gave him a wink and a smile before going back to making an attempt at dinner.
-
Seven days later, no one wants to take the spider. Peter asked everyone - Ned, MJ, everyone on the decathlon team, half his biology teachers- no one. Cindy has arachnophobia. Flash says “I would rather die than touch anything that comes from the Parker household,” which, rude, but Peter gets it. Even Mr. Harrington sides with May, saying that keeping it would be a good learning experience. Peter internally thinks that being Spider-Man is a good learning experience, but he can’t say that, so he bites his tongue.
“I think you should keep it,” MJ says over tater tots at lunch. “It’d be like, weirdly on brand for you. Spider-Man? Having a spider?”
“Ha, ha,” Peter replies sarcastically. “I think you're forgetting that I’m afraid of spiders. Last time I was in close contact, I literally got radiation poisoning. I was sick for a week .”
“And now you’re New York’s favorite vigilante!” Ned chimes in, “So really, you’d be doing a favor to your spider brethren.”
Peter rolls his eyes. “Ned, if terrorists chopped off your arm, and I helped you build a really cool bionic arm replacement, would that make those terrorists your ‘bretheren’?”
“That’s not the same and you know it,” MJ interrupts. “How long have you had the thing?”
“A week,” he sighs.
“It’s gonna need to eat soon, then.”
Peter freezes. “What?”
“Spiders eat like, once a week. It needs food, dumbass.”
“How do you know that?”
“Looked it up.” MJ stands with her tray, tossing her last tater tot at Peter’s head. “I’m canceling practice today. We’re going to the pet store to get some crickets.”
“Crickets?”
“Crickets. Or roaches. Whatever they have on hand.” MJ shrugs and leaves Peter in his misery, Ned vibrating excitedly next to him. “Meet outside, three o’clock,” MJ calls over her shoulder.
“Spider-Man has a pet spider , oh this is gonna be so fun,” Ned says, and Peter groans.
-
The pet store is full of several animals that Peter would rather have. Even though the mice smell, even though the birds poop everywhere, and even though the chameleon doesn’t even like people, he’d trade the spider for anything. Unfortunately, pet stores don’t work that way, the associate kindly explains.
Ned and MJ have disappeared, looking at the fish, the lizards, browsing the tanks and habitat decor as if decorating a new enclosure. Peter wishes he could join them. Actually, he wishes they would leave.
“But I don’t want it,” Peter says as a last ditch attempt. “I’m gonna take bad care of it. You have to take it.”
“We… can’t do that, it’s against policy,” the associate, Ariel as it says on his nametag, explains. “I would take it, but I already have too many pets. And I know my coworkers don’t like spiders.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Peter asks. “I’m scared of it, it scares me, and I’m scared to feed it, because what if it bites me?”
Ariel cracks a small smile. “What kind of tarantula did you say it was?”
“A pink-toe.”
“You’re in luck, then. They don’t like to be handled. You won’t ever have to hold it.”
“And what happens when I need to feed it?”
Ariel shrugs. “Crack the lid on the enclosure and throw a cricket in.”
“What about heating? Will it get cold?”
“There’s heat lamps in aisle seventeen, and they’re on sale this week.”
“Does it need any humidity?”
“Spray the tank with water twice a day, it’ll be fine.”
“Jeez. I’m not cut out for this,” Peter says. “I hate the thing, but I can’t let it die, that’s- I’m gonna ruin this spider’s life, and it’s gonna suck- I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl!”
“You seem to be doing pretty well already,” Ariel replies. “And don’t worry about taking care of it- I’ll give you my number. I keep tarantulas, so if you have any questions, just shoot me a text. And I’ll let you use my employee discount on anything you need to buy today.” Ariel scribbles his number on a sticky note, which Peter takes gratefully, promising to use it almost as soon as he gets home.
He, Ned, and MJ leave the store with a heat lamp, some fake plants, and a single cricket in a little baggie. Ned has to head home for dinner, but MJ promises to help Peter set up the lamp and feed the spider, just this once.
“You know,” she says as they walk home, “You’ve just spent money on it. It’s yours now.”
“I know,” he replies sullenly.
“You’re gonna have to name it.”
“I know.”
“And buy it a cricket every week.”
“I know ,” Peter huffs, and MJ cracks a smile.
“You’ll fall in love with the thing within two days, I guarantee it.”
Peter scowls. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re a big dork,” she replies in lieu of an explanation. “Now c’mon, it’s getting cold. We gotta set up the lamp.”
-
May, as promised, is delighted that the tarantula is staying. She helps MJ set up the heat lamp, and Peter hides in his room while the girls open the tank to feed it, though MJ calls him a pussy.
“Not that pussy’s are a bad thing, or that women are more fearful than men,” she explains, “But you’re being a huge pussy right now.”
“The tank is closed, right?” Peter asks through a crack in the door.
“Get out here, dweeb,” is MJ’s response, so he does.
The spider is pressed up against the glass, holding the (now deceased) cricket between its… mouth? Lips? Arms?
“I think it’s a boy,” May pipes up. “If it were a girl, it’d be building a web by now.”
Peter gives her a look. “And how do you know that?”
MJ interrupts whatever answer May was going to give. “Google is free.”
That doesn’t stop Peter from texting Ariel to confirm.
It’s true; the tarantula is a boy.
“Not that gender matters,” MJ says. “You could use whatever name and pronouns you want. Spiders don’t have emotions.”
“Ouch.”
“You’re, like, two percent spider.”
“Still,” Peter says. The tarantula hunches down, moving its legs closer to the cricket it just caught. Peter tilts his head. “I guess he is kinda cool,” he relents.
“So, tough guy,” May elbows him in the ribs, “Any ideas for a name?”
“I’ll think about it,” is Peter’s response.
-
Thinking about it is all he does.
Through patrol, through class, through lab day, through his and Ned’s movie marathon.
“Han Solo?” Ned suggests through their rewatch of A New Hope .
“Nah. Too on-the-nose,” Peter replies.
“Hmm. Chewbacca? Chewie?”
“How many chocolate labs out there are also named Chewie?”
“True. Yoda?”
“The spider’s black, not green.”
“Vader?”
“I’m not doing a Star Wars name,” Peter finally says, and Ned suppresses a giggle.
“Okay,” he says through a smile, “Not Star Wars. How about… something sciency? Like Argon? Or Nucleic Acid?”
“Argon’s not bad,” Peter agrees, pulling out his phone and adding the name to his list. “So far, we have Georgia, June-bug, Smithsonian, Otto, and Argon.”
“All good names,” Ned says, but Peter shrugs.
“I’ll have to think about it.”
-
Week two.
“What about Helios?” MJ suggests as she tosses a cricket into the tank.
“Helios is the sun god,” Peter argues, “And this guy is the opposite of sunny.”
“Poetic irony,” is all MJ has to say about that.
-
Week three.
“Pothos?” May suggests as she waters her plant. Peter watches the tarantula move around the tank and tilts his head in thought.
“Nah,” he finally decides, “Sounds like one of those literary devices they make us use in AP english.”
-
Week four, the spider still has no name.
“I think I’ve finally decided on at least two,” he tells Tony as they tinker in the lab. “MJ suggested Otto, which alludes to his eight legs, and Ned suggested Argon, like, from the periodic table. Honestly, I like both, but I can’t decide which I like better.”
“Torn between a noble gas and a pun. Never thought I’d see the day,” Tony replies. “How about you name it Tony Stark?”
Peter snorts. “Now that you mention it, Steve Rogers really just flows off the tongue-”
Tony makes a choking gasp sound in mock offense, and Peter laughs.
They sit for a while, working on their own projects. There’s classical music playing somewhere, which Peter recently confessed helped him focus on idle tasks. He’s working on the protruding legs for the Iron Spider while Tony messes with Friday’s algorithm.
The legs are an astounding piece of tech. The nanites are frankly the most seamless of the whole suit- able to compact into a paper-thin compartment when not in use. Ever since he’d started taking this particular suit out, the legs had become a fan favorite. The kids loved it- exclaiming with glee that Spider-Man has eight arms! Like a real spider!
“I think Otto,” Peter says after a while. He’s finally replacing the nanites, letting them slip back into the suit, unnoticeable. “Otto. My pet tarantula is named Otto.”
Tony smiles. “Got a nice ring to it. Good choice, kiddo.”
“Thanks, Mr. Stark!”
-
Otto quickly becomes a staple in Peter’s life. He goes to the pet store every Thursday after Decathlon practice to buy a cricket, and Ned and MJ tag along for the sake of it. He engineers little pieces of decor that stay warm throughout the night without a battery or outside electricity, so Otto can warm up whenever he needs. Mr. Stark even offers to buy the spider a new tank, since the current one is so small, but Peter politely refuses.
“The one he has is perfectly fine,” he says, “Spiders can’t see very well, so they use their little furs to sense their surroundings. A smaller tank is one that Otto can actually see better in. He feels safer this way.”
“Wait, back up,” Tony stops, turning to point at Peter with a screwdriver. “Spiders can’t see well?”
“Not really, even though they have eight eyes.”
“Can they hear?”
“They… more feel the vibrations of sound. Kind of like Beethoven did, y’know?”
“Taste?”
“Actually, most taste and smell sensory organs are found on the outside of their legs.”
“So…” Tony tilts his head, “You got bit by a spider and have all these- these enhanced senses. Don’t need glasses, can smell hot dog stands from miles down the road, and can hear me snoring all the way from Queens.”
Peter narrows his eyes. “Yeah?”
“You have all these powers from a spider .”
“Mr. Stark, I’m not following.”
“You got bit by a spider, and gained all these spider powers, but your new senses are nothing like a spider’s actual senses.”
Peter sits back. “Huh. I guess you're right.” He goes back to tinkering. It’s quiet for a bit, and then-
“Do you feel stuff with your arm hair?”
“Uh, no-”
“Can you taste with your toes?”
“Mr. Stark -”
-
Peter eventually moves Otto into his room when May accidentally stumbles into the coffee table. Their stack of coasters clatters to the ground, and Otto’s tank teeters dangerously.
“May!” Peter exclaims, jumping up from his spot on the couch to secure the tank. He picks it up and studies Otto, who luckily, seems unharmed, if not a bit shaken. “Oh jeez,” Peter sighs. “That was a close one.”
“Sorry for the scare, buddy,” May apologizes to the spider. “Maybe there’s a better place to put him?”
“He can stay in my room, I guess,” Peter says. “I’ve got that shelf by the closet that’s out of the way so he doesn’t get knocked over.”
“Good idea,” May agrees, picking up the heat lamp as Peter carries the tank into his room.
That night, Peter watches Otto roam the tank. Eventually, he makes his way to his water dish, and Peter watches through the dark as Otto lowers his whole body into the water just to get a sip. Maybe next time he’s at the lab with Tony, he’ll make a machine that’ll keep the tank at a perfect humidity level. Peter falls to sleep imagining the blueprints.
-
Next week in the lab, Peter finally proposes the idea.
“A humidifier,” he explains, “But concentrated to a small area. And with super small water molecules, so unless it’s a hydrophilic surface, nothing gets wet.” He’s drawing out blueprints on the table, talking animatedly, Tony watching over his shoulder. “And think of how many other pets could use something like this! Birds, or even leopard geckos. Bearded dragons. Frogs and toads!”
“You’ve really got the reptile market cornered, bud,” Mr. Stark says, patting Peter on the shoulder. “It also seems like you’re starting to like this little pet of yours.”
“I guess,” Peter stands back from his design. “Otto is- he’s fine. I’m not gonna hold him or play with him or anything. We coexist. We’re strictly coworkers.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t like him, per se. But he didn’t ask to be my pet. So I’m gonna give him the best care possible.”
“Definitely,” Tony teases. “You head to the soldering table, get started on the framework, and I can get started on the mechanics of it, ‘kay?”
“Well, make sure if you include a timer, it’s set to start the humidity cycle for three hours at dawn and dusk,” Peter explains, pointing to his blueprints. “Oh, and make sure it doesn’t make too much noise. The vibrations might freak him out.”
“You got it, kiddo,” Tony says, then, under his breath, “Strictly coworkers, huh?”
-
“Hey, MJ!” Peter lifts the phone to his ear.
“Hey, loser. How’s Thanksgiving break treating you?”
“Really great! Um- Actually, though, I wanted to ask a favor.”
“A favor?” MJ says, and Peter can practically hear her raising her eyebrows. “This oughta be good.”
Peter lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Um, so- Mr. Stark invited May and I up to the compound for Thanksgiving, and we’ll be staying for a few days, but, um-”
“Spit it out, dork.”
“Otto eats on Thursdays. But I won’t be home on Thursday. And he needs his light turned off at night.”
MJ pauses. “You’re asking me to take care of him?”
“Yeah?”
“Bring him to my house tonight.” And with that, she hangs up.
“So, he needs his tank misted morning and night. But he can’t get wet- the pet store worker said that if he gets wet it could damage his little hairs, but he uses them to sense his surroundings, and they're his defense mechanism, so it’s important he doesn’t get them wet.” Peter rambles as he brings Otto’s tank into MJ’s room and sets him on her desk. “And I usually keep his lamp on for, like, twelve hours or so. But honestly, if you turn it on when you wake up and turn it off when you go to bed, that works too.”
“Dude, I can google spider care,” MJ rolls her eyes. “I got this. I know how to handle him. It’s fine.”
“But don’t handle him, though,” Peter says, eyes wide, “Pink-toe tarantulas don’t like to be held. You’ll scare him and he’ll skitter away and he could get hurt-”
“Okay, okay, I get it, Jesus,” MJ pushes him out of her room. “I’m not gonna screw up spider care, I promise. I’ll take such good care of him. He’ll be potty trained by the time you come back.”
“MJ, I’m serious.”
“When am I not?” she replies, pushing him down the stairs and out the door. “I got it, Peter. Honestly.”
He sends her a warm smile as he opens the door to leave. “I know. Thanks, MJ.”
“No problem, dweeb.”
“Text me or call me if you have any questions!”
“Good bye!” she slams the door in his face.
MJ takes good care of Otto for the next few days. She keeps him on her desk, away from the window, so the November cold doesn’t get to him. She turns the heat lamp on every morning at nine, and turns it off twelve hours later. On Thursday, after dinner, she opens the lid and throws a single cricket into the tank before going to bed. Otto snatches it up, and MJ can’t help but crack a smile- Otto is admittedly a really cool pet.
The next morning, MJ wakes up a little later than usual, and goes to turn on Otto’s lamp and spritz the tank. As she does so, however…
“Shit,” she whispers. The lid is cracked open, and had been left that way all night. “Shit, shit, shit-” She moves around the decor, checking under leaves, under the water dish, even digging in the substrate a little (even though pink-toe tarantulas don’t dig), and after ten minutes of frivolously searching the tank, Otto is nowhere to be found.
“Okay,” MJ breathes, “Okay. It’s only been a few hours. Think like a spider, think like a spider. Think like Peter. Like a spider.”
Peter gets cold easily. Peter leans into hugs because they’re warm. Peter wears extra layers in the fall and winter.
“Spiders like warmth,” she concedes, and turns the heat lamp on in hopes that it would lure Otto back to his home. In the meantime, she checks everywhere she can think of. Under the bed, under the pile of dirty clothes. On the shelf by her lava lamp. Behind paintings and papers taped to the wall. MJ spends the next hour carefully rummaging through her pillows and blankets, tearing apart her bookshelf and drawers, before finally coming to the conclusion that he’s not anywhere in the room.
“Shit,” she says again. The apartment isn’t huge, per se, but to a little tarantula… Otto could be anywhere.
Her family is out Black Friday shopping, and MJ takes this as an opportunity to do some serious spider-hunting. She turns on the shower as warm as it would go, and turns on the fan, too, thinking that the warm mist would attract a spider, and the fan would scare him out of the vents (“Oh, god, please don’t be in the vents.”) She takes a step-stool around the cabinets in the kitchen, checks every crevice she can think of. Under the fridge, behind the TV, under the couch, between the fibers of the carpet. Maybe he’s hanging upside down under a table, like when Peter sat on the ceiling for their entire study date last week. Maybe he’s hiding in a blanket, like when Peter curls up during movie nights. Maybe he’s eating the leftovers, like Peter would be if he were here.
“Peter is gonna be so pissed,” MJ eventually whispers to herself.
Her family returns mid afternoon, and they all make their own plates of Thanksgiving leftovers. She recruits Ned, who’s a little hesitant about the prospect of having to pick up the tarantula, but decides to help anyway.
They’re halfway through their third search of MJ’s parents room when Ned finally suggests the one thing they’ve each been avoiding for over an hour.
“We need to call him,” Ned says, shifting through the bedsheets for the fifth time.
“We can’t,” MJ protests, “I promised I’d take care of this dumb spider, I promised. He’s gonna be so mad.”
“Peter doesn’t get mad,” Ned supplies apologetically. “It was an accident. He’d be bummed, but he’d understand.”
“Last week I saw him drawing pictures of Otto in his chem notebook. He loves the stupid thing,” MJ says. She’s going through her desk drawers again, looking in every little box and container.
“Peter gets home Sunday morning. If we don’t find him by tomorrow before dinner, we have to call him.”
MJ hangs her head, dropping the handful of pens she’d been holding to the floor. “Yeah,” she sighs. “Tomorrow, though.”
“Tomorrow,” Ned agrees.
Ned ends up spending the night. There’s nowhere for them to look where they haven’t already. MJ triple checks the shower curtains while she’s brushing her teeth, but no dice. She even decides to keep the heat lamp on overnight in case Otto gets cold and manages to find his way back. Eventually, the two fall asleep in front of the TV, bundled in blankets, heads resting on decorative throw pillows, watching the reruns of yesterday’s dog show.
-
“You… lost him?” Peter asks. MJ bites her lip, grateful he’s on the phone and not in person, watching her get all teary-eyed.
“Yeah,” MJ says, voice almost cracking. “I accidentally left the lid open a little bit after I fed him, and- I dunno, but I didn’t notice until the next morning he wasn’t there. Ned and I looked all day yesterday and for hours this morning, and Peter, I’m so sorry-”
“Em, it’s okay,” Peter says, “It was an accident, it’s fine. He’ll turn up, I’m sure of it. Just keep doing what you're doing, keep the lamp on, keep checking warm places.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I- I will. Peter-”
“MJ, it’s okay. It happens.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“I’ll come over tomorrow morning. Maybe I’ll be able to sense him or something. Since we’re both spiders.” He laughs, and MJ even smiles a bit too.
“Okay,” she says.
“Though, it is nice to see Michelle Jones exhibit some emotions for once-”
“Oh, shut up, Parker,” she retorts, but there’s no venom in it.
-
“You said you checked the shower curtains?” Peter asks from inside the tub.
“Yeah, we checked all over. I even let the shower run super warm so he’d be attracted to it,” MJ explains.
“Do you have a cup?”
“A- a cup?”
“I need a cup- quick, Em-”
MJ grabs the cup with her toothbrush and dumps it out, handing it behind the curtain where Peter grabs it. She watches as he climbs up the wall and carefully pries the vent from the ceiling-
And there, sitting on the air filter, is Otto.
“Gotcha,” Peter whispers, tongue sticking from his lip in concentration. He places the cup under where Otto’s sitting, and the spider startles himself into the glass. Peter covers the cup with his hand. “See?” he says to MJ before jumping back to the floor. “Told you he’d turn up.” When he holds out the glass for MJ to see, Otto is already climbing the sides, trying to get out. “Let’s get you back into your tank, buddy.”
They walk quietly to MJ’s room, where Peter quickly deposits Otto back into his tank.
“Peter-”
“Thanks for taking care of him, Em,” Peter turns to her with Otto’s tank in his hands and a bright smile splitting his cheeks.
“But I lost him.”
Peter shrugs. “Spiders escape, just like how I sneak out every other weekend,” he says, still grinning. “Plus, there’s no one else I trust with him more.”
-
Peter likes his spider. He admits it to himself quietly when there's a sub in biology and they’re watching a Planet Earth special that features the Mexican Red-knee tarantula. Everyone else is on their phones, reading, or in MJ’s case, drawing, but Peter finds himself watching the screen. The tarantula in the special eats huge cockroaches. Maybe Otto would like to try one? Maybe he’d like a different bug than just crickets. He should really be trying to spice up his pet’s diet.
A few minutes later, MJ pokes his shoulder and shows him a drawing. It’s him, with a little tarantula on his shoulder.
“It’s you and Otto,” she smirks, as if Peter hadn't figured that out already, and Peter tilts his head.
“Can I see that?” MJ gives him her sketchbook, and he studies the picture. For a second, he imagines himself standing there with Otto on his shoulder, and the idea doesn’t freak him out. “Can I keep this?” he asks, and MJ grins as she rips the page out of the notebook.
When Peter gets home, he tapes the drawing to the wall by where Otto’s tank sits on his desk.
“MJ drew us,” he says as if the spider can understand him. Otto makes no reaction to Peter’s voice, but later, when Peter goes to bed, Otto is pressed up against the glass facing the picture. It probably doesn’t mean anything, since Otto can’t see very well, but it makes Peter smile anyways.