Chapter Text
“What the fuck?”
Peter stares at May, evaluating his options in quick succession.
The first and completely impossible one— not least of which because MJ would probably murder him for leaving her behind— would be to launch himself out of the window. Quick, simple, effective in getting away.
However, the chances that that would assuage any of his aunt’s concerns were slim to none– much less how cowardly that would be– removes that quickly as a path forward.
The second was to play stupid, Peter’s mind immediately trying to come up with a thousand different possibilities to explain why the hell he– Peter Parker– would have some kind of spandex get up that looks suspiciously like Spider-Man.
While Peter has the confidence in his own ability to bullshit more or less, May Parker wasn’t born yesterday. It’d be an insult to her intelligence, he reasons, to try and pretend that the suit wasn’t his.
The third option– one that came forward without any of his input– was the variable he’s never been able to really prepare for.
“It’s a costume. We’re going to a con next weekend,” MJ smoothly lies, so sincere and earnest as she tentatively smiles.
May stares– at the costume and then to MJ– Peter willing for her to take the bait, only for her to lock eyes with him and confirm that this was something she wasn’t going to so easily let go. Maybe, in another universe, May would be far more willing to accept the lie for what it is.
In this one, Peter thinks he’s starting to see his life flashing before his eyes.
“A costume?” She asks, disbelief dripping from her voice. MJ must sense that it’s a losing battle, staying quiet as Peter takes a deep breath– grounding himself as he works to collect his thoughts.
“Sort of. It’s…” Peter begins, then draws a blank– shooting a look at MJ in desperation.
MJ seems to see the writing on the wall just as he does, giving him an unhelpful shrug as he clears his throat.
“May, I–”
“I should go,” MJ interjects, Peter giving her a look as she makes a face. “You two have a lot to talk about and I–”
“No,” May says immediately, both Peter and MJ stopping in place. He watches as May takes the suit in her hand, runs her fingers over the fabric and seems to take a deep breath– watching in action do the same grounding tactic that she had taught him as she flicks her eyes back up to them and exhales slowly. “You two are going to stay right here and tell me exactly what is going on here.”
“What about mahjong?” Peter asks weakly, May’s eyes boring into his.
“It can wait,” she clips, Peter pressing his lips together.
He glances at MJ who looks just as contrite, Peter exhaling slowly.
“Okay,” he says in resignation, following May’s lead to sit at their dining room table– MJ moving to do the same.
May walks over to the other side, suit still in her hand as she stares at it up and down.
It’s immediately awkward, neither MJ nor Peter seemingly wanting to break the silence when May clears her throat.
“So,” she says, eyes and fingers still traveling across the fabric. “Who’s going to tell me what this really is? Or,” she huffs, Peter watching intently as her fingers run over the emblem in the middle. “When did this happen?”
MJ says nothing, looking over to him– likely wanting him to take the lead for completely obvious reasons. It wasn’t in her nature, to let others direct course but he figures that this makes sense why she would in this instance.
It wasn’t just her story to tell.
“Where do you want me to start?” Peter asks, May’s expression shifting to one of neutrality– something far more unnerving about that than anything else.
“The beginning.”
Peter scratches at his fingers, twirling them together before sighing.
“Okay.”
“Dude, you’re still alive?”
“Barely,” he says, flopping down onto the couch– Ned still in the kitchen. Peter is tempted to put his face into the couch and smother himself but then thinks better of it. “I might be dead actually.”
Peter feels a pinch right at his ankles, jerking upwards to see Flash flipping him off.
“Hey!”
“Not dead then,” he says, before swatting at Peter’s legs. “Move, I’m sitting here.”
Peter rolls his eyes but still does what he’s told, flipping around to his back as Ned messes with something in the kitchen.
MJ had decided after May’s interrogation that she was going to head home, something Peter didn’t feel particularly motivated to argue with her about. If he had his own way, Peter would’ve liked to have gone home and sulk in his room without being bothered.
Instead he has Flash, moving him out of the way so that he can make use of the massive television that Ned had acquired– turning it on to some kind of sports game that makes Peter do a double take.
“Since when are you a football fan?”
“Since forever, shut the fuck up,” Flash says, putting popcorn in his mouth and staring at the screen. Peter makes a face, looking over to Ned who just shrugs.
“You’re watching this too?”
“Why not?” Ned asks, sitting on the loveseat that the two of them had found on the street a few months back. “So what’d she say?”
Peter shrugs, laying back down and looking up at the ceiling. “Nothing, really. I mean, it’s– she said it’s a lot take in–”
“Shhh.”
“–but that was it,” Peter continues at the same volume, giving Flash a dirty look– despite him not seeing it, eyes still on the television. “You know there’s like, a thousand different bars you could go to watch… whatever this is.”
“I wanna be able to piss in peace, shut up,” Flash snaps back, putting another wad of popcorn in his mouth.
“She took it a lot better than I thought she would,” Ned chimes in, Peter finally sitting up as he looks over to Ned.
“Why do you say that?”
Ned shrugs, picking out some M&M’s from his popcorn before saying, “she’d still be yelling, I think.”
“Nah, May’s cool,” Flash says, both Peter and Ned turning to him.
When neither says anything in return at first, Flash finally looks at them before asking, “What?”
“You’ve never really had an opinion about this before,” Peter says carefully, sitting up as Flash shrugs then looks back to the television.
“May’s cool, Parker. She’ll be pissed, sure but she cares.”
“He’s right,” Ned chimes in.
“I know he’s right,” Peter snaps at Ned who just shakes his head.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says, putting a hand up.
“I’m not, I’m— you should’ve seen her face when I told her long I’ve been Spider-Man. It was like…”
Peter trails off, unable now to see anything but the look on May’s face in his mind. Not anger like he expected or fear like he’d thought, but hurt— Peter only leaving after May’s phone started to ring from her friends checking in. Maybe it had been the cowards way but it gave May the chance to take a beat without him there, though Peter can’t even pretend his motivations were purely selfless.
If there was anything Peter hated most, it was disappointing May. Seeing the hurt on her face was enough to make his stomach twist.
“What are you gonna do?” Ned asks, throwing Peter out of his thoughts.
Peter frowns, sighing again before laying back down on the couch.
“I have no fucking idea.”
It’s easy enough for Peter to ignore the things he doesn’t want to think about as the semester comes to a close.
It’s awkward with Gwen, who seems to want to make good on her promise to focus— Peter catching her obsessively checking her email each time they’re in the lab together.
“You definitely got it,” he says on the last day of class, Gwen looking up at him with an unreadable expression on her face. Peter awkwardly continues, “I mean, I don’t think Dr. Connors would just try and get your hopes up if it wasn’t—“
“Anything can happen,” Gwen interjects, shrugging before putting her phone in her pocket and standing up. “You never know.”
“Right,” Peter replies, looking on in confusion as Gwen begins to put her stuff away.
“See you.”
“Hey, wait. Um—“ Peter begins, moving to stand as Gwen just stares.
“Did you— you know, want to study together for—“
“I made plans already, with Harry,” she says, her expression forcibly blank despite her tone sounding almost sad.
“Oh.”
Gwen says nothing, Peter feeling the awkwardness fall between them. She’s smart, way too smart for Peter to think he could try and lie to her again, his own inner conflict of not wanting to tell her brushing up against his lingering crush.
Gwen had all but told him that he was a distraction she couldn’t afford, a part of Peter wondering if she’d still feel that way if he told her the truth.
On the one hand, telling her his secret would make things easier— no more hiding, no more back and forth, having the chance for her to really know more about him.
On the other, he thinks of May— thinks of Harry— and can’t help but think that if he tells Gwen the truth now, she’ll only be more upset that he’d lied to her all this time in the first place.
Gwen seems completely oblivious to Peter’s inner turmoil— giving a quick smile before putting her backpack over her shoulder.
“Bye.”
Peter can only wave as Gwen turns and heads out the classroom, slumping down in his seat as the rest of the class starts to follow.
He sighs, knowing that there’s not much he can do about it now— thinking instead of the other classes that he has and the studying he still hasn’t done for any of them.
It was Peter’s own fault, not even being able to blame trouble around the city for his own inability to keep up with everything. He hasn’t been out on patrol since May learned the truth and without that serving as a stress release— and a lack of anything else to fill it— Peter was restless without an outlet.
He needs to focus, he needs to get his shit together— all the while feeling as if time was moving faster than he could keep up.
MJ at least, had told him that she was going to be at the Coffee Bean later, putting his stuff together and grabbing his phone to text her when it buzzed twice— Peter frowning as he goes to check it.
That can’t be good, he thinks as he swipes open the notification and sees three messages all in quick succession— two texts and then an email.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: haven’t seen you around the city
UNKNOWN NUMBER: let me know if the suit isn’t working
From: Dr. Otto Octavius, Subject: Welcome to the Future
Peter stares at the messages, blinking a few times as he tries to ignore the feeling as if the universe is mocking him.
Well, shit.