Chapter Text
Montpellier 9,00 PM
It was a matter of fact that Marcus had a pretty shit year. First of all, he was miles away from everything he knew—his home, friends, and family. Second, nursing school had been a blow to his ego. He really tried to get good grades, but in some classes he felt downright mediocre. Luckily, today was his last day of finals, and the last thing he wanted to do was get drunk with his classmates—not friends, because he was too busy being overly serious with his studies. What Marcus really wanted was a nice meal, a movie, and finally a full night of sleep in his own bed.
Marcus’s flat was nice and cozy, a gift from his dad, who wanted him to have a smooth university life without the worry of paying rent every month. Marcus really missed his family — even if his parents were the incarnation of worry. He had grown up pampered and sheltered, so living alone was a big change for him. As the youngest child, he had a lot of “luck”, thanks to his parents’ successful business and his older sisters’ amazing careers, everyone chipped in for his education. He went to a nice French lycée and graduated with a French diploma. His grades were good, so he was accepted into the University of Montpellier. He felt like his family expected a lot from him, and that pressure alone was enough to stress him out.
The TV was on, filling the room with background noise. The hum of the street outside was oddly relaxing. Marcus had ordered food from a place one of his classmates had recommended. While he waited, he was doom-scrolling on TikTok. Suddenly, he heard the familiar laugh of his neighbor, Madame Aimard. She liked to talk loudly when she was on the phone with her friend — sometimes it was annoying, especially when he was trying to study. This time, she was talking about her cousin, who had just divorced for the third time. While flipping through TikToks, he discovered that there would be a new Spider-Man movie. He liked the movies, he had literally seen every single one. He didn’t read the comics, though.
The bell rang, and a notification popped up on his phone — the delivery guy was here, and Marcus couldn’t be more excited. He was so ready to stuff his face with junk food. He paid the delivery guy and set the food on the coffee table after clearing away his textbooks. When he opened the containers, he smiled blissfully at the smell.
"What a nice way to end this shitty academic year," he muttered to himself, ready to take a bite when his phone rang. He was really tempted to hang up—he was starving and tired—but it was his mother. He couldn’t hang up on his mother.
"My little baby, how were your finals?" his mom asked. She sounded like she was in the living room, in the background he could hear his sisters and his dad having breakfast before heading to work.
"They were fine, Mom," Marcus answered. "I was just about to have dinner before you called."
"Oh, in that case you should eat. I’m afraid you’re not eating regularly because of your studies." Of course she was worried, he had a tendency to forget meals when he was stressed.
"I'm eating, Mom. Three meals a day."
"That's good to hear. I won’t bother you anymore. Have a nice dinner and go to bed early."
He hung up the phone, finally ready to eat his meal in peace. He pleaded with the universe for no more interruptions. He had skipped breakfast and lunch, and now that he had the time, he wanted to savour every bite.
He was halfway through when the building started to shake violently—an earthquake.
"Well, this actually sucks," he murmured, deadpan.
At this point, Marcus couldn’t care less, he just had to wait for the quake to settle so he could get out of the building. He was crouched under his coffee table when, all of a sudden, a light appeared on the floor. And then… all he could see was a freaking star—before he fell through it. He screamed as the star-shaped hole disappeared and everything turned black.
New york 9:00 AM
New York was a very loud city. Peter woke up to the sound of a loud honk outside. Light was slipping through his window—he really needed to buy some damn curtains. He slowly rose from his bed, feeling the imminent back pain that probably came from the old mattress.It was 9:00 a.m., and his shift at the restaurant started in an hour. He looked around his space, scratches on the wooden floors, the old refrigerator, and his worn-out couch. Some of those things he had bought himself, the others were gifts from his landlord and neighbours.
His stomach growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he bought groceries, so breakfast was the usual, bread and coffee. After eating, he headed for the shower. The only clothes he wore regularly were his work uniform—and his Spider-Man suit, of course. Ever since his erasure, every day felt the same to him. Wake up, work, patrol, collapse into bed. Repeat. Today he felt… okay. Not good, not particularly nice—just okay. On the worst days, the loneliness stuck to him like damp air. But lately, Peter had started to believe he might be making some friends again.
Work was the usual. He greeted his boss and dropped his backpack in the locker. His co-worker, Miss Louise, was a sweet old lady who had a fondness for lemon candy…maybe a little too much. Peter liked her a lot, she was always patient with him. His boss, on the other hand, was rather indifferent, though at least he paid on time.
His job started with cleaning the tables, sweeping the floor, and washing the windows so everything would be nice and clean for lunch. When it was time for lunch, he took some orders and chit-chatted with the clients. Louise helped him get a bit of free time so he could eat. The cook was generous and gave him plenty of food. When he was done, he repeated everything until the restaurant closed.
"Nice work, Peter," said Miss Louise cheerfully as she handed him some lemon candy.
"Thank you… Louise, see you tomorrow."
"If you ever need anything, Peter, you can tell me," said Louise, always suspecting he was having a hard time — which wasn’t a lie — though he didn’t want to bother the poor woman.
"Of course… um, thanks, Louise."
Now it was time for his other job to start. Peter made sure to find a lonesome alley to change into his suit, and then his patrol began. He was always thankful that there wasn’t some mega threat in New York every day, just the usual stuff, random burglars, rescuing people’s pets… the list could go on. But after the erasure, he appreciated having light days. He liked to bask in the last hours of the sun. He liked climbing the highest buildings just to watch how the sun dipped away and the night began.
When it got dark, Peter had to sharpen his senses, someone might need help, and the worst people liked committing crimes at night.
But today was different… a guy —he looked younger than Peter —was standing at the edge of a building.
"Well, you don't see people trying to off themselves every day," Peter mumbled worried.
The guy had one foot in the air, and Peter grabbed him and webbed him to the wall of a nearby alley. The dude protested, but Peter didn’t budge. When Peter got a good look at him, the guy looked aghast, on the verge of a panic attack, like he couldn’t believe where he was at all.
"You should breathe, man. You almost made a pancake out of yourself."
"Nice. Spider-Man," the guy muttered. "What else should I expect from this dream? Iron Man inviting me to the Avengers?"
"Great…" Peter said softly.
"Excuse me?! I know you're giving me that look, even under the mask." The guy snapped. "I’m clearly not drugged. I’m just having the weirdest — and first — lucid dream."
Peter galnced at the guy, "Yeah.. we are not having this conversation." Peter replied. "Just let me know where you live so I can drop you nearby"
"I'm not from New York."
"Then your hotel address."
The guy looked at Peter deadpan. That was answer enough.
"How did you get here, dude?" Peter was starting to get nervous. "Please don’t say magic portal," he thought.
"Like I already told you, this is a dream," the guy said seriously.
"Right, a dream, and I’m the Queen of England."
"Ha! Impossible, she passed away."
Then Peter heard police sirens in the distance. This random guy was… something. "Nope! Not doing this right now. I’ll check if everything’s okay and come back to you… um, continue enjoying the dream?"
With that, Peter propelled himself into the sky with his web.
New York 8:00 Pm
Marcus felt like he’d fallen from a ten-story building. His back ached, a migraine was brewing inside his skull, and worst of all… he was starving. He had just wanted a nice, peaceful meal, but then that terrible earthquake happened. All he remembered was falling through a star-shaped hole, and then everything went black.
He tried to assess his surroundings, piles of garbage and the distant murmur of people. What he didn’t understand was why the hell he was in an alley. It was obvious, because of the shock from the fall, he’d passed out, and now he was having a lucid dream. But seriously… why would he dream of landing in a smelly alley? At least let him fall onto something nicer.
He tried to stand up, but his hand landed in some suspicious juice — gross. And, what a surprise, he was still in his pajamas… the ones with Snoopy. "Putain! Shouldn’t I be able to change clothes? It’s my dream, after all… at least I’m not naked," he thought.
He was afraid to leave the alley. He wasn’t ready to experiment with humiliation in his dreams. Marcus was very conscious — painfully aware — that he cared how people looked at him. And sure enough, everyone seemed to be eyeing him strangely.
"Oh, stop looking at me like that. There are better things to judge than a guy in pajamas."
He heard people speaking English. That was weird, most of his dreams were in French, thanks to the fact he’d listened to French all his life. Still, at least it was a language he understood. He wandered and wandered, trying to find something that could wake him up, but the longer he walked, the more freaked out he became — why were people’s faces so defined?
Maybe his subconscious mind was just as meticulous as he was. Normally, that would’ve been cool. Right now, though, the whole situation was downright unnerving. Was he on the other side? —maybe— but he needed to know where exactly he was.
He found a magazine stall and read the newspaper, New York. August, 2022.
"That's funny, my subconscious mind is a time traveller," Marcus muttered, then kept wandering until his feet were sore. He finally sat on the sidewalk in front of a large building when something in the corner of his eye pulled his attention.
"Did I just see an A on that building?"
And it was indeed an A.
"Well, that confirms this is a lucid dream," Marcus mumbled.
I mean, there was no way Marcus wasn’t dreaming—what the heck was Avengers Tower doing in New York? He was sure it had to be pure CGI.
He walked and walked, trying to get out of the dream, but every minute that passed became more unnerving. The smell, the noise, everything was so real. The dream was turning into a nightmare, and all he could think was that if he had actually traveled through time and into another universe, then he was fucked—literally.
The fact that it was dark, and that he couldn’t fathom being in one of the biggest cities in the world, only made him more scared. He didn’t want to get mugged, kidnapped, or whatever else could happen when you were vulnerable in a city you didn’t know.
In his desperation, he decided to look for a solution, and that solution was jumping from a building and waking up. Nothing would happen, it was his dream nightmare after all. There was nothing to be scared of.
He found an open building and headed straight to the rooftop. The rooftop was quite cluttered—chairs and tables, probably used to host parties— but that was unimportant now. He had important business, jumping and waking up. Whenever you fall in a dream, you have to wake up…
“That’s a long fall…” Marcus said, looking down from the rooftop.
He hesitated, suddenly aware that he had a fear of heights, but it was this or sinking deeper into the madness of his dream. Being scared felt pointless—this wasn’t real. He would wake up in his cozy flat, chamomile infusion in hand.
One foot was already in the air when he suddenly felt someone yank him back from the edge. What was that?
Then he looked up.
Spider-Man.
_______________________________________________________
Peter propelled himself away after the police sirens, promising he would come back later—what else could he do? Marcus was left waiting in a smelly alley, not believing the situation he was in, but fair enough, if Avengers Tower existed in this city, then of course there was a Spider-Man here. Basic logic.
But which Spider-Man? The last movie had featured three different actors. Or maybe it was someone else entirely, though it was probably one of them, since Marcus had only watched the movies.
After 20 long minutes Spider-Man reappeared again in all his glory, props to Marcus subconscious mind that nailed Peter Parker's suit.
"So how is the dream so far?" Peter asked, tilting his head.
"Fantastic, my butt is getting cold. Weird thing to experience that in a dream but I would appreciate it if you just get me out of these webs." Marcus added
"Yeah…I'm not letting you out until I make sure you wont try to swan dive off a roof top again" Peter continued.
"Hm…I promise not to do that again, pinky promise . Now get me out" Marcus said lied.
Peter squinted at Marcus. "You suck at lying" Peter Replied.
"Lucid dreams should be obedient, jus get me out and mind your own business."
Peter frowned "Sorry buddy but you are not my boss"
Marcus huffed in annoyance and tried to think of a way to convince Peter that he was actually a creation of his own mind. He looked around the alley and spotted a pile of glass bottles. Well, he wouldn’t feel a thing if he cut his hand with a shard of glass.
Marcus smirked as a terrible amazing idea popped into his mind.
“Okay, so… let me prove it,” he said. “I’ll prove this is a dream, and I won’t bother you anymore. What do you say, bitsy?”
Peter rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Sure, man. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Inside, though, Peter hoped he wasn’t getting himself into a mess with this guy but at the same time, he was getting tired.
Peter was expecting the guy to run the moment he pulled the webs off him, but instead Marcus just raised his hands and walked straight toward a pile of glass bottles, breaking one without hesitation.
He grabbed a shard and announced, “Behold my power, Peter Parker. This shard will not cut my hand, because this situation is not real and I will wake up.”
Peter froze.
Did he just say Peter Parker?
Then Peter looked again and saw the blood. A lot of it.
Marcus looked just as confused as Peter felt.
“Okay… this hurts like a butt cheek on a stick,” Marcus stammered, trying to be funny, but the situation was very much not funny.
“Oh god, you’re bleeding a lot,” Peter said with genuine concern.
Marcus collapsed to the ground, clutching his hand and trying desperately to stop the bleeding. Peter rushed to bandage it, though his mind was racing, far more focused on the fact that this guy somehow knew his name.
Marcus tried to steady his breathing, but he was a heartbeat away from passing out.
And then he did.