Chapter Text
Dunk clung to the side of a glittering Bangkok skyscraper, his red-and-blue spandex suit riding up in places he’d rather not think about. The city hummed below, neon signs flashing ads for spicy som tam and the latest GMMTV series. His web-shooters were low on fluid, his stomach was growling, and his phone buzzed with a text from his landlady: “Dunk Natachai, rent is DUE. No more excuses or I’m selling your Vespa!”
“Ugh, why didn’t I get bitten by a rich radioactive spider?” Dunk muttered, adjusting his mask. Being Spider-Dunk was cool and all. He got to swing through the city, stop petty thieves, and occasionally yeet a tuk-tuk out of harm’s way, but the gig didn’t exactly come with a National Savings Fund.
His spider-senses tingled, and not the fun kind of tingle he got when Joong Archen, the aspiring actor and part-time barista at the café Dunk frequented, smiled at him. No, this was the “oh crap, something’s about to explode” tingle. Sure enough, a massive blob of banana sticky rice (yes, the dessert) was oozing down Sukhumvit Road, toppling food carts and sending tourists screaming. It had arms. And googly eyes. And it was… singing?
“Is that… Khun Krua?” Dunk squinted. “Okay, Bangkok, you’ve officially lost it.”
He swung down, landing on a streetlight with a dramatic flourish (and only a little wobble). “Hey, Khao Niew Kluey Monster! Time to get back in the dessert tray where you belong!”
The monster roared, flinging a glob of coconut cream at him. Dunk dodged, webbing up a nearby lamppost to swing-kick the creature. That’s when he saw him. Joong Archen was strutting out of a nearby audition in a red leather jacket that hugged his shoulders like it was personally in love with him. His hair was perfectly tousled, and his grin was brighter than the Tor Kor Market at noon. And he was… taking a selfie with the monster?
“Joong, what the hell?!” Dunk yelled, his voice cracking through his mask. “Get out of here!”
Joong winked at the camera, then at Dunk. “Relax, Spider-Hottie! This is going viral. #BangkokSuperheroVibes. Wanna be in my TikTok?”
Dunk’s brain got zapped. Joong’s nickname for him, Spider-Hottie, was both a blessing and a curse. He’d been crushing on Joong since the guy handed him a free Iced Latte with Cold Foam with a heart drawn in the foam. But Joong had no idea Spider-Dunk was just Dunk, the awkward engineering student who tripped over his own feet every time Joong said hi.
“Joong, move!” Dunk webbed Joong’s waist, yanking him out of the way as the monster hurled a banana chunk the size of a motorbike. Joong yelped, clinging to Dunk mid-air with his arms wrapped around his neck.
“Wow, you’re strong,” Joong purred, way too calm for someone dangling over a dessert apocalypse. “Do you work out, or is it just the spider genes?”
Dunk’s face burned under the mask. “Not the time, MJ... er, Joong!” He dropped Joong on a rooftop, praying his voice didn’t betray his identity. “Stay here. Don’t… flirt with the monster.”
“No promises!” Joong called, already pulling out his phone to livestream.
Dunk groaned, swinging back into the thick of it. The monster was now tossing handfuls of sweetened condensed milk, turning the street into a slippery nightmare. Dunk webbed its arms, only for it to sprout more. “Who even made you? A rogue chef? A cursed street vendor?!”
“I am the spirit of overpriced desserts!” the monster bellowed, which was honestly a vibe Dunk could relate to.
He was about to try a desperate web-cocoon strategy when Joong’s voice cut through the chaos. “Spider-Hottie! Catch!” Joong lobbed a massive bag of salt from the rooftop, which he had probably stolen from a nearby restaurant. Dunk caught it, ripped it open, and dumped it on the monster. The creature shrieked, dissolving into a sad, sugary puddle.
Dunk landed, panting. “Salt? Really?”
Joong slid down a fire escape, grinning. “I’m a barista, not an idiot. Everyone knows salt kills evil desserts.” He stepped closer, his eyes sparkling. “So, Spider-Hottie, how about a thank-you kiss?”
Dunk froze. His mask hid his blush, but not his stammer. “I-I gotta… web… things. Bye!” He shot a web and yeeted himself into the night, his heart pounding.
Back at his tiny apartment, Dunk collapsed on his bed, still in his suit. His phone pinged with a notification; he had a new follower on his Bangkok Spiderman Instagram account. It was Joong, who had sent a DM: “Next time, I’m getting that kiss. 😉”
Dunk thrashed on the bed, his screams swallowed by the pillow. Being a superhero was hard. Being in love with Joong Archen? Harder.