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Peter Parker is miserable and that is a bona-fided fact. Undoubtably it's because his friends don't remember him, no one does, but lately thanks to Parker Luck another issue has managed to squeeze its way in between all the other ones.
Because being dirt poor and utterly alone wasn't enough.
He sighs as he looks up at his cracked ceiling, his stomach rumbling and cramping as it begs for food. Ya know, in case he forgot but for his stomach's information he had eaten it just wasn't enough. It never is and unfortunetly for his stomach, and him, he doesn't have the funds to feed his endless appetite.
He curls his hand over his stomach and wills it to shut up with no luck. Figures. But even beyond the hunger something isn't right. He's been trying his best to ignore it but just like his hunger it's persistent and always there. No matter what he's doing, his fifth job of the week or patrol something scratches at his brain.
It does more than that. It makes his skin itch like it's somehow too tight for his body and just wrong. He can't look at himself in the mirror without that bone deep wrongness violently spiking. It's weird and he hates it. He wishes he had someone to talk to.
I wish May was here. She'd know if what I'm feeling is normal or not. But Aunt May isn't here and won't ever be here again. Peter presses into his stomach and wipes at his eyes. Crying won't help him but he can't stop the tears. He isn't entirely sure he wants too.
It hurts but it's all he has left of her. He lays there, sleep refusing to come as he remembers all the good times. The stupid jokes and her ventures in the kitchen before she finally conceded that his cooking is better and better yet, edible. The tears fall until he runs out of that too.
Yet, the discomfort remains. His hunger has transitioned from rumbling and cramping to nothing but a tremor in his hands. A weariness seeps into his skin right alongside the itch because he won't go back to sleep tonight. He's missed his window to do so. Once his hunger evolves to this level it's impossible to ignore no matter how late it gets.
He lays there anyways, stubbornly refuseing to give up because closing his eyes is scientifically better than nothing. As he rests, his mind wanders to everything and everyone he doesn't want to think about and- okay that's enough rest.
He wipes his eyes and sits up, scanning his room for something to do. He could go on patrol again that's always good. Maybe the itch will be settled once his blood gets pumping. He gets up, swaying a bit due to sheer exhaustion, hunger and the wrongness trapped within his legs. He pushes it away and stumbles towards where his suit hangs.
He grabs it aaaaaand it's still wet from earlier today. Right, he had run out of quarters for the dryer and air drying takes forever. At least for the suit. He inwardly curses the Parker Luck and moves to his only other option, his computer.
He takes his mind off of things by scowering the internet for why he feels the way that he does. The itch and his too-tight skin. He quickly rules out most medical related things, the symptoms don't line up or he would have been dead already. He searches and he searches until something makes him pause.
Transgender. No, no that can't be him. He's fine being a guy. Fine? Just fine? He thinks on it, and he thinks some more. It feels…nice to imagine. To see himself looking like that. Makeup, dresses, longer hair everything he's seen and known girls to do and suddenly he's crying for an entirely different reason.
For the first time in a long time, joy unfurls in her chest. It's bright, and warm and God how did she miss this? She throws herself into learning all that she can about possible next steps. What to expect, what she wants to do and where she could take herself. It's exciting and it occupies her until morning.
She didn't sleep for more than a few hours but something within her that night settled. Some of the ache eased for good.
____________
The biggest issue is the same ones she has been having. Discovering this only makes her feel marginally less shitty in her day to day life.
No one remembers her which means she has no identification so getting estrogen is out of the question. She's too broke to get it without insurance anyway. She tries not to let it bother her, truly she does because she can't afford for it to sidetrack her but it's nearly all she thinks about.
She still can't look at herself in the mirror unless it's to shave. And sometimes the itch returns with a vengeance. She tries to mitigate it where she can. She's let her hair grow out for one. Easy, simple and low-profile. As much as she doesn't want to be a dude it's all she knows. It's easy to slip back into that role.
She thinks about this in a revolving loop as she works. Becoming a woman, Ned, MJ, and May. She rolls the pizza dough into a flat even layer and curls the edges into a crust. Becoming a woman, Ned, MJ, May and Ben. She spreads the sauce and sprinkles on the cheese. Ned, May, Ben, MJ and becoming a woman. She pops the pizza into the oven and the cycle repeates.
She becomes lost in it for the entirety of her shift. She fantasizes about their reactions to this new her. What they'd say and what they'd do. She makes a mental note to visit May and Ben's graves.
By the time she clocks out it's late into the night. She starts her trek home, winding through the city streets her feet leading the way without much input from her.
Even at this hour New York is alive and bustling. It's moments like these where she fails to feel alone. When she slips into a crowd of people, people around her age stinking of alcohol, laughing with bright smiles fixed onto their faces, she pretends that she's with them.
She can pretend that they know her and she knows them. She pretends that her body is softer than it is. She pretends that they've always known her this way. She pretends until she turns and they keep walking, leaving her behind. It's funny how it hurts like she had known them.
Ben, May, becoming a woman, MJ and Ned.
She continues towards her apartment and along the way she catalogues the changes in the city. The cracked walls, the graffitti crammed onto nearly every surface as crowds thin until there's nearly no one left. There is no group of friends joking and laughing their asses off. Only the occasional lone stranger who quickly walks past her with their shoulders hunched and their hands shoved into their pockets.
She comes upon her street, expecting to see no one but who she does see has her smiling. Standing beneath a streetlight, each nursing a cigarette is two of the most beautiful girls she's ever seen. Well, besides MJ of course.
Kendra leans against the light post, clad in a bright pink zebra print dress with her brown hair tied up into a sleek pony tail. Her dark skin shines in the light and even at this distance she can smell the sugary lotion she's put on beneath the smoke.
Standing beside her is Star. Long bleach-blond hair, tanned skin, a purple dress that matches Kendra's and shiny lipgloss. The girls like to hang out here sometimes as they wait to see if any of their clients that live in her building are biting tonight.
She sees the moment they register her approach. A slight bunching of their shoulders, preparing for whatever comes next before they see her face.
"Peter!" They call.
"Hey ladies," she says with a wave in their direction.
They giggle at the polite monicker and she doesn't fight it when they block her path and sweep her up. They grab her by the arms pulling her towards the post as they posture in front of her in increasingly ridiculous ways.
"We don't bite," Kendra says as she gnashes her teeth in her direction.
"Unless your chicken," Star adds, flapping her arms in a truly spectacular rendition of the chicken dance.
They know she isn't interested, they've offered before, but it's become a running joke to offer anyways. It's such a silly spectacle, two ladies scantily clad, perfumed and glittered pulling funny faces and dances in a practiced act.
"Aw come on you ladies know I'm broke," she says giggling for the first time in a while. It feels nice, she hadn't realized how much she missed talking to people. Normal talking, not taking someone's order or asking her co-worker if they've done x y and z.
"Didn't you just get back from work? You have some money," Kendra says, giving her a doubtful once over to her uniform.
"Technically…" she says.
"Technically…" Kendra draws out.
"We don't have any either," Star buts in, leaning into Kendra like she can't stand on her own as she proceeds to laugh so hard she snorts.
Star's laughter is infectious. It creeps beneath her skin and warms her insides like a good home cooked meal. It bubbles in her chest until she has no choice but to go along with it. She laughs until her sides, her face and her throat hurt.
It doesn't help that she feels semi-ridiculous, barring her own problems. She's in a pizza shop uniform, and the other two are dressed to entice. The three of them are leaning against the lamppost and each other. The laughter leaves them weak, unable to keep any semblance of strength as they fight to breathe.
At some point both girls drop their cigarettes and they curse about it only to laugh some more. Kendra hugs them close and Peter tries not to think about how this the most human contact shes had all day.
"Three peas in a pod," Kendra says.
"Peter ain't a girl."
"Not yet," she blurts before she can stop herself. And she hates how those two words ruin everything.
The good mood evaporates as a serious air takes its place. A silent pause that she can't bear to stew in because that's all she does. She pulls away before they can. She expects animosity, some sort of anger maybe?
What she does not expect is immediate enthusiasm.
"Oh my God when did your egg crack?" Star says, bouncing in place from pure excitement. "Was it when you started growing your hair out?"
"My…my egg?" She blinks, caught on the strange term and trying to remember but the meaning escapes her. All those sleepless hours spent scouring message boards fly out the window.
"Uh I mean I just haven't gotten any like meds yet? I don't- I don't know why I'm telling you this," she unnecessarily clarifies and she wishes she could web her mouth shut right about now if it would stop her from rambling.
"Star stop you're scarin the poor girl," Kendra says lightly slapping the other woman's arm. "Ignore her, what we mean to say is don't worry about money for all that, we got you."
"What? No I couldn't ask you to buy me some."
Kendra gives her a look that conveys she's stupid for even trying to sway her. “You always treat us like ladies its only fair we return the favor.”
"Oh."
And suddenly a lump forms in her throat she can hardly speak around because she hadn't thought that her greetings had mattered. That she matters. That what she does as herself, outside of the mask, has any lasting effects on anyone.
She sniffles wiping away tears that for once don't take something from her on the way out.
"Oh."
She stops trying to hold back and lets the tears fall. Hot trails burn down her cheeks and drip off her chin because why are they being so nice? They don't say a word as they comfort her like she's easy to love. No questions, no comments or judgement and she can't wrap her head around it.
Gentle hands soothe along her back and arms as they huddle close to her. It doesn't matter that this started as a friendly chat, or that they're technically working, that melts away as they focus on her. She can't handle it, her body shaking as she cries and cries but she has other hands than her own to put the pieces back together.
Eventually, her tears run out. She sniffles and wipes at her face one last time before she straightens. Kendra and Star each keep a hand on her, less of a steadying presence and more just…being there. Being with her and it does more than they realize.
"Think of a name yet babygirl?” Star asks, breaking the fragile silence.
"Not yet," Peter says with a shake of her head.
"Eh you’ll think of somethin. The name is the hardest part I swear.”
Wait is she…? She shakes her head, a smile creeping onto her face in spite of everything. "You're the first people I've told. I don't really know…where to begin."
"We'll buy your first round and we know just where to take you to get it for a better price than the quacks can get ya," Kendra assures as she steers her away from the lamppost and her building.
"It's nearly two am is it still open?"
"Pfft- is it still open," Star snorts from her right.
"Babygirl we know people plus Mother's is always open, come on. We need to get you lookin right."
"Aren't you basically on the clock right now?" She asks, gestureing to the lamp post and her apartment complex behind them.
The two share a look before rolling their eyes and more insistently tugging her along. "We'll be fine," Kendra huffs with a flick of her ponytail.
Trapped between the two of them, and not really wanting to leave, she's lead away. They wind through back allies, and empty streets. Well, as empty as New York gets anyway.
Streetlights cast an eerie glow across the pavement, warped shadows that meld into the surrounding darkness. It's inexplicablely empty even with a few other stragglers about. The city never sleeps but the people and the sounds are muted as if trapped under a layer of fuzz.
Or maybe it's just her general exhaustion talking. She focuses on walking, step after step, Kendra and Star on either side of her. They chatter amongst each other, simple conversations that fly over her head. It's a pleasent lull and one she gladly lets wash over her.
The smoke from their extinguished cigarettes clings to their clothes and it's a different form of comfort than their voices. Ben used to smoke. Aunt May hated it, rightfully forbidding it from happening in her vicinity. But try as they might, neither Ben nor May could get his habit to break.
So Ben always smelled faintly of smoke. She used to be disgusted by it, pretending to cough when it was too strong. Now, Peter considers buying a carton just to light a single cigarette like it's a cancerous stick of incense.
In the end smoking isn't what killed him.
Between one step and the next she wonders what will kill her. The mask or what's beneath it. Maybe it would have been her, if Kendra and Star hadn't lifted her between their arms and held her above it all. She thinks without them she would have dissipated as easily as smoke caught in a breeze.
She hardly pays attention to where they're going, trapped in her own head. She thinks maybe she should be a little more aware or concerned as to where she' is being lead. She knows the woman she's with but she doesn't know them beyond a few quips here and there when she's seen them. It wasn't until tonight that their friendly banter went beyond that.
She can't bring herself to care beyond the joy nestled in her chest. Because someone anyone is seeing her for the first time since the spell was cast.
They come to a stop in front of a small rundown building. Despite its obvious wear, the building is teeming with warm lively energy. A broken window? Patched up with boards while the interior is shielded by a patterned quilt. Weeds are left to flourish in the cracks in the pavement. Natural bouquets made from Dandelions, Common Yarrow and Mugwart.
Its unassumeing and would be easy to miss, blending into the backdrop of equally rundown buildings next to it were it not for the lilac painted door. The door's paint is worn around the edges, chipped, graying with dirt and muted from the sun. A sign is tacked to the front of it reading open, painted in rainbow glittery script.
She doesn't get a chance to examine it any further as Kendra pushes open the door and tugs her inside. She blinks adjusting to the soft lighting of lamps and star shaped string lights but once she does, Peter can't hold back the gasp at what she sees.
This is so cool, she thinks. The room is cluttered as clothes, non-perishable food, makeup, over the counter drugs, really anything a person could ever need takes up every available surface.
Yet, the space still finds room for decoration. The quilts that cover the windows are colorful, intricate patterns woven across every thread. Paintings with a range of mediums and subjects are scattered across the walls. Potted plants are everywhere too. On the shelves, the floor and hanging from the ceiling. Their tendrils spilling out of their pots and reaching towards the floor.
She thinks they're for sale too but she has no clue how much anything would cost in here. There isn't a price tag in sight. It's messy, lived in but everything has its place. A candle burns somewhere, scenting the air with caramel and cinnamon.
This place reminds her of home. Back when Ben was alive and she'd come back from school to people waiting for her. Smiles on their faces as they ask how her day was. A hot meal at the dinner table.
"This is incredible," she says, slowly turning to take in as much of the store as she can.
"Told ya we knew a place," Star says.
"And I will never doubt either of you again."
"You doubted us?" Kendra huffs.
"Welcome! Welcome!" someone calls and she spies a curtain, something rustling behind it.
A person emerges, tall, big, hairy and yet somehow soft. Muscles that rival any body builder cord their arms, offset by pastel clothing and glittery eyeshadow. A full beard that has tiny braids tied off with bows. A plump bosom speckled with chest hair.
She carries a stack of books that they set on a nearby shelf along with the others. Peter briefly catches a glimpse behind the curtain and sees a liveing space before it flutters closed.
"Girls," the person nods towards Kendra and Star before he focuses on her, "Need something dear?"
And Peter can't say it. Too much has happened this evening for her to process. She doesn't even have a name picked out yet.
"We need estrogen for our friend here," Kendra blessedly answers for her when it becomes clear that she won't. Kendra presses a wad of cash into the other's hand.
The person, who she can only assume is Mother, nods. "I'll be back with that, feel free to look around," and he winks at her before disappearing behind the curtain.
"…so that was Mother?" She asks. She feels like she just met a mythical being instead of a person. Somehow this is more mystifying than the actual aliens.
"Yup, she has everything," Kendra says sounding proud. "Every. Thing."
"Now come on, we said we'd get you looking right and we are going to deliver," Star urges.
Peter had foolishly assumed that they were only referring to the estrogen but she is so glad she was wrong. She follows them around the store like a lost spiderling as they pick out clothes for her. She's only a little less lost when she ends up behind a different curtain than the one Mother disappeared behind with their haul.
"Go on and try them on," Kendra encourages from the other side.
"We gotta know if we got your size right," Star says.
Normally, Peter can't wait to get out of her work uniform. It gets hot back there with the numerous ovens and no matter what she does her uniforms always smell faintly of grease and cheese. Plus the assigned polo shirts are rough and vaguely itchy. But now she's apprehensive about taking it off.
She's never worn a skirt before. It's just clothes, she tells herself. It's fabric that's shaped differently than what she's used to, she can handle it. She handles getting shot at nearly everyday she can handle this.
Come on Spider-Man, come on girl. She shucks off her uniform and slips on the skirt and matching shirt. She smoothes the fabric over her skin and it feels good. Maybe its just because these clothes are clean and not covered in grease but it doesn't feel constrictive or dirty. It's a relief and she proudly pulls back the curtain.
Kendra and Star clap as she emerges. Big smiles on their faces and it encourages her to do a twirl. She does a curtsy as their clapping gets louder in turn and she doesn't feel like she's playing dress up. Nor does it feel like she's acting or playing up a part it feels real, rooted deep within her.
She walks toward the mirror, and looks at herself beyond what's required for basic tasks for the first time in a long time. Her hair, that's grown just past her chin, frames her face in a way that almost looks intentional. The strands are greasy, heavy with sweat and mussed at the top from her required hat.
Her eyes are sunken, dark bags that look like bruises and her body has grown lean. Her arms and legs are a tad too skinny. They look like pencils wrapped in pipe cleaners.
The hope in her chest turns as if fingers have grabbed between her ribs and twisted. It's ugly and heavy and why did she let herself think she could-
"I look like a boy in a skirt," she mutters. Because as wonderful as she feels, as right as it is what's inside doesn't match her current reality. And reality is Peter Parker staring back at her in a baby blue skirt.
"Girl!" Kendra snaps at her and she sounds angry. She looks it too from what she can see in the reflection of the mirror. Kendra stands there hands on her hips and a snear on her lips. "We did not drag you over here so you could feel sorry for yourself missy. And I'm offended that you are."
"It's true!" She says because it is. They can all see what she looks like. Everything begins to boil over inside of her. The days work, the sleepless nights, and those out of her reach. It burns inside of her, bubbling and threatening to pour out of her mouth.
To ruin one of the few good things she has. To force them to leave her before outside circumstances do.
"Nuh uh, nope. I will not take this from you. I won't hear it," Kendra says and it's only when she's staring at her shoes does Peter realize that she's looked down and away from the mirror.
She forces herself to look up and Kendra's pissed off look almost makes her laugh. It's absurd how quickly the anger leaves her at that look. It reminds her of when May would chastise her and that alone is what knocks some sense into her.
She thins her lips and nods, conceding on a fight she never meant to start. Kendra flicks her ponytail as she turns to leave, its ends hitting her in the face and she knows it's intentional. She watches her stalk towards a door and she feels a tug on her arm.
Star stands there, a bag slung over her arm that is bursting with makeup and hair supplies. "Don't take it too personally, she means well."
"I know, besides I needed it. I was stuck in my own head."
"We'll keep you out of it," Star says, following after Kendra.
Peter hangs back and wills herself to look into the mirror once more. She doesn't like what she sees but she will. She has to believe that, she has to believe that this is worth it. Come on Spider-Man, come on girl. And maybe it's silly, maybe she'll look ridiculous but that doesn't matter.
She needs this.
She nods to herself, and the person in the mirror copies her before she follows after them.
By the time she gets there they already have everything set up. Containers of makeup crowd the basin of the sink and a table along with brushes and other things she can't place. She steps inside and leaves the door open, not that it does much good in granting more space.
The bathroom is a single person restroom and as such it's only meant for one person at a time. Two people was pushing it, adding her into the mix breaks it. They are squished together so tightly she feels sweat sprouting from the combined heat of their bodies.
At least the bathroom is clean. The colorful touches extend to here too as stickers of flowers and vines are stuck onto the edges of the mirror hanging above the sink. A small table, that has seen better days, rests across from the toilet. It has bowls of sanitary items, pads and tampons along with Narcan and a sharps container.
She spies pamphlets sticking out from beneath the array of beauty items. It's like the ones she would see in school but a little more specific. Abuseive relationships, addiction, queer identities and safe sex no matter who your partner is.
It warms her in ways she can't place. Ways that in all honestly she had thought she lost. It spurrs her onward better than any of her self given pep talks. She shuffles towards the toilet, the other two doing their best to give her the space to do so, and sits down. Her knees hit the table in front of her and the sink juts into her ribs. Neither one of them dislodges the feeling steadily blooming in her chest.
Then for what feels like hours, she becomes their doll. They comb her hair and do her makeup describing every step of the process. She relaxes as they go, enjoying the feeling of their touch. The brush carding through her hair as eyeshadow is gently swiped onto one of her eyelids.
At one point Kendra sits on her lap facing her. Peter's head is held in her hands, her face tilted down and to and fro as Kendra applies a little extra blush or something or other. It sets the warmth a flutter and she can't keep a goofy smile off of her face.
The gentle handling, the love felt through every action settles her. She can see it working on the others too. Kendra's face releases the pinched anger it had held earlier. Star is less excitable, calmed as she focuses on her task.
Once they've finished she looks at herself and smiles at what she sees. It isn't perfect, her body is wrong, sickly and pale but it's her. The makeup feels strange on her skin and she's terrified of touching her own face but it's just another fascet of change. Something else to get used to. Being whisked away to this mysterious shop is exactly what she needed.
The familiar swell of tears warms behind her eyes and in her throat and she swallows thickly so as not to ruin their hard work. She would thank them but she doesn't think she could stop herself from bursting into tears. Being a snotty, tearful mess once was enough.
Kendra and Star seem to understand. They press into her sides, leaning their heads on her shoulders in a cramped version of a hug. She laughs wetly and resists the urge to wipe her eyes of non-existent tears. She fails, reaching a hand up to do exactly that when both girls in tandem slap her hand back down.
"This the first time you've worn makeup?" Star asks, gripping the ever loving shit out of her hand to keep it down.
"Mhmm," she hums because she fears for her life if she speaks and ruins the work they've just completed.
"Not even drama club or somethin?" Kendra asks, and she doesn't grip her hand but her hand on the small of her back is warning enough.
"I was in a nerd club in highschool."
"You mean like a year ago?" Star laughs as Peter shrinks down into an embarrassed puddle.
Thankfully, she's saved by the bell. Literally, a bell gets run somewhere as the distinctive voice of Mother bellows, "Order up!"
They scramble out of the bathroom as quickly as they can with how little room there is. Shoving the makeup and other items they used back into the big purse Star had originally put them in as they go. They follow the sound of the ringing and as soon as she gets up there Mother tosses her a brown paper bag and slides over a bag full of canned and non-perishable food.
It rattles when she catches it and she instantly knows what it is. She reverently opens the bag and finds an orange pill bottle inside. Its label has her full birth name on it and everything. It looks like it was freshly prescribed. Too many emotions swirl in her head and her chest. She wants to jump for joy, she wants to hug them, and wants and she wants.
"How did you know my full name?" She asks instead of doing any of those things.
Mother smiles, showing off teeth bedazzled with gems. "Two little birdies told me long before you walked in here."
She looks to the only two that could be and finds them giggling amongst each other. She gets the sense that she should feel more offended than she is that they've apparently known about this before she told them but there isn't a speck to be found. Not after everything they've done for her.
"Thank you so much. Really, I can't- I can't thank you enough," she says to the room at large, looking between the three of them.
The girls can't be too mad at me for crying now can they? She gently dabs at the corners of her eyes and does her best not to let anything else escape. She feels honey warm inside, gooey and weak but maybe she doesn't need to be strong. She can afford to rest.
"Its no issue. I take in all the lost children. Anything that they need I have for whatever price they can afford," Mother says.
She instinctually pats at her pockets, remembers she doesn't have any and then beats a hasty retreat to the changing room. She snaps up her uniform and fishes her wallet out of her pants. She finds the meager dollar bills held within, thank you tip money, and presents them to her.
"Here, for the other items."
Mother shakes his head, closing her hand and holding it. A thumb soothes across her knuckles. "Keep it. You can pay me back another time, if you must."
Peter looks around the room, the wear and tear that intrudes upon the space. What the bright paint can't quite hide. She thinks of the front door, the broken window. She doesn't have much but there is something else she can offer.
"If you have the supplies, I know my way around a hammer."
"Deal," Mother agrees, giving her hand a firm shake before letting her go. "Come back anytime, you'll always have a place here baby."
She thanks them one more time and then her and the girls take their leave. She doesn't want to leave but she's tired, the day seeping past her skin and into her bones. She walks on her own, Kendra and Star ahead of her leading the way back because they know as well as her that she wasn't paying much attention on the way there.
They walk slowly, like they have nowhere better to be but with each other. Kendra and Star hold hands and sometimes lean against each other as they drink in the night. They remain quiet, a comfortable silence until Peter begins to recognize street names and sidewalks. She can take it from here.
"See? We told you we'd have you lookin right," Star reminds her at the top of her street.
"You did and again, thank you for this," she hesitates for a brief moment before barreling ahead. She's going to offer them more than they realize. She takes her phone from her pocket and pulls up an empty contacts page. "If you need anything just let me know, alright?"
Star inputs her number. She takes her profile picture right then and there, dragging Kendra down and kissing her cheek before handing it back to her.
"We'll let ya know," she says and with that the two disappear into the night. Presumably back to wherever they're staying or maybe to make a quick buck or two.
You better, Peter types, sending the message to her for later.
She walks into her apartment and for once the silence isn't oppressive. It just is. She drops the bags onto the floor resolving to deal with them tomorrow. She crawls into her bed, clothes and makeup and all because although the girls have impressed upon her the importance of taking makeup off before bed, she can't bear to do it. Not yet, let her live in this waking dream for a moment longer.
Its a pocket of time where she is happy and content. She has friends again. She feels herself smiling as she reviews tonight. Over and over she thinks of all that was said and done before she drifts off to sleep.
______________________
She wakes up refreshed in body and spirit. Except for her face, that is a gross mess from the caked on makeup that she almost regrets leaving on. Almost. Not really though. It's the best sleep she's had since before the spell, since before May's death.
May, she thinks and she can't get her off her mind as she gets up. As she stands over her skink scrubbing at her face with a makeup wipe. As she dresses in new clothes lovingly picked out for her. As she takes the first dose of her new beginning. While she tries her hand at applying simple makeup herself.
There's a pull in her chest, morose but that's not all it is. It's two shades shy of hopeful, nervouse too and she knows that it's time. She needs to tell them, they would have been the first to know. She's not going to snub them of such an honor now. Kendra and Star withstanding.
She puts away her new things and takes the bag with her as she sets off. It's terrifying to go out as she is. She thinks everybody is looking at her, judgeing her but they deserve to know. She owes it to them, everything to them, she won't quit because of a few imagined stares.
It's New York, nobody really cares about that sort of thing anymore, she reasons with herself and finds it mostly to be true. She gets the odd look here and there but nobody is bold enough to approach her. People keep to themselves.
It's a long journey through city streets, subways and busses that she can hardly afford. The tugging in her chest grows more incessant, a persistent push that she knows nothing will quell. She finds their plot easily, her heart knowing the way, its strings tugged to bursting as their headstones crest into view.
May, Ben, Richard and Mary Parker. The entire immediate Parker family except for one. The tugging morphs into a burn that sears her throat. Choking her so she can't manage a thing except to sink to her knees and look at them all.
Her parents graves have changed. The inscriptions that she's memorized, loving mother and father, is erased. The spell had reached its gnarled fingers into the past. Their graves have green moss growing on them because no other family was here to clean them. No regular visits on Peter's birthday, no one to remember them.
A whole lifetime that she had missed. Ben and May's graves are only slightly better. Maybe this May had gone back for Ben before moving on. She didn't have a snot nosed kid to constantly remind her of that loss. She shakes her head, clearing away those thoughts.
She doesn't know the extent at which the spell extends. What it chooses to change and what it does not. Magic is not her forte. All she knows is that she is here now and she won't let them remain like this.
She cleans what she can. She brushes away the moss with her hands then her makeup wipes. She gets a good amount off but some bits are hopeless without proper tools or she runs the risk of damaging them. She traces their descriptions, their names and their death dates.
The sun shines on her back warming it and she likes to think that's their way of thanking her. That they remember her, spell or no spell and they're happy she's here.
"Sorry, I know I should have come earlier days off are rare. I've changed since you've last seen me which I'm sure you've noticed."
She pauses as if they've answered.
"I'm…a woman now. I haven't thought of a name yet but don't worry! I still like Peter," she turns to her parents headstones. "It's a good name, really, it just doesn't fit me anymore."
A special brand of embarrassment creeps up her neck at explaining changeing her name to her dead parents and relatives. Is it disrespectful to them, to change the name they had picked out for her when they can't help her pick a new one? She wishes they could help but unless she starts digging in the soil and making everyone uncomfortable the most she can do is tell them.
She falls silent because she's told them and she doesn't have much else to say. She feels a tinge of sadness at how little goes on in her life. There's no new developments with Spider-Man. She could describe to them the intricacies of making pizza's at her job. She snorts at that, the ludicrecy of describing in detail her minimum wage pizza job to headstones.
"Star said this would be the hardest part."
There's no answer except for the wind in the trees. The distant sound of someone else crying. She runs her hands along their headstones again, trying once again to clear any stubborn stuck on bits of moss. Her fingers flit over May's name, May Penelope Parker.
Her hand snags on her middle name and there's a tug in her chest.
"You- you wouldn't mind would you?" She says and she feels insane for asking it.
May can't answer but she knows what she would have said. Yes, yes, yes. She hugs her headstone, imagining that the sun warmed stone is soft skin. That the scent of flowers, rotting and fresh is May's perfume. That the weight of her bag's strap digging into her shoulder is Ben's hand. That the sun on her back is her parents loving embrace.
The same hugs she hasn't felt since she was eight.
"I'll make you proud May. I promise," she hugs the tombstone tighter, feeling the grit of its grain scrape against her arms. "Promise."
________________
Time moves forwards and she has never been more aware of its passing. At first there is little to no change, a softening of her skin but only she notices that. Nothing of note externally but internally she feels it.
She wonders how much her spider DNA is going to affect things but there is only one way to find out. So far she hasn't noticed any changes regarding that. Yet. She has a sneaking suspicion due to her luck it will show up at some point.
Penelope brushes those thoughts aside along with her hair. It's gotten longer now, long enough it reaches her shoulders and she can put it up into a pony tail which she gladly does. It's hot and she needs it out of her face while she works.
She assesses the window one more time, crouching in front of the store and staring at it and its boards. Yup, it sure is broken. Hopefully, what little she remembers from days spent with Ben and the internet won't stear her wrong.
"Do you have everything you need, hun?" Mother asks as she leans out the door.
"Yeah, I got it," she gestures to the window at large. "I'll come inside once I'm ready to put in the new pane. And I put the old glass in the dumpster around the back right?"
Mother nods. "Yes the back dumpster," he pats her shoulder, giving it a grateful squeeze before closing the door.
Penelope sets to work and she finds it's like riding a bicycle. She remembers everything Ben had taught her. She pries off every board, putting them and their nails off to the side in separate piles. It's hard work and she's sweating and dirty but it's nice to use her hands. It's nice to do something good as herself.
She goes inside to fetch the new pane, having already gotten rid of the old one and a surprise waits for her. She barely takes two steps before Mother is shoving something into her hands. A cold glass of homemade lemonade and a ham sandwich.
"Oh you did-" she begins only to be interrupted by her growling stomach.
Mother laughs at her. "Please, you never needed to cover the cost of what you took last time. Plus I think my meemaw would have rather shot herself dead than find out I ever had someone doing repairs and not at least offered them a cold drink."
Penelope would have insisted otherwise but her mouth is full of a delicious sandwich. Mother ushers her to sit at a nearby not so crowded table and they enjoy lunch together. They talk, mostly Mother, and she feels so lucky to be here. To have this place and these people to fall back on.
When they've finished and she's in the process of trying to convince Mother to let her wash her dishes, they pass a small bag over to her.
She pushes it back without looking inside. "You've done enough, seriously I don't need anything else."
Mother gives her a look. They raise one of her brows and purses his lips like they're chewing on the words before saying them. "You'll need these and trust me, they are a lot harder to shop for than you might think," she says turning and leaving with both of their dishes.
Penelope briefly mourns her lost battle of being a good guest and accepts that Motehr would have never let her wash her own dishes as a guest in his shop and home. She peeks inside the bag and pulls out…bras. Lots of bras ranging from A to D and she vaguely knows what the letters mean.
Shes grateful but also extremely confused as to why Mother thinks she'll need them so soon. From what she's researched and from what Star says she has some time before any growth there happens.
As it were, she convinces Mother to hold onto them as she finishes installing the glass. Penelope can't convince her to take them back altogether but she knows by now that Mother is a hard person to persuade when it comes to their gifts.
Turns out Mother was absolutely correct and she's convinced that they are fae. He has to be with how well the timing lines up.
Around a week later she feels a tenderness in her pecks almost constantly. Even something as simple as her arm brushing against her chest sends shocks of pain. It's like a wrench has been tightened around each of her pecks and left there constantly. What villain of the week has cursed her with this? Seriously, it's ridiculous.
Star said this is normal and Kendra commented that some woman get this every month with their periods. She shudders at the thought of experiencing this on a monthly basis along with the plethora of other symptoms that come with having a uterus. Relieved and a tiny bit jealous in a fashion she will not be examining.
And then one day she has them. Small peaks of breasts, and it is startling to see them. Mounds of fleshy fat on each side of her chest and those are hers, she grew them. She reverently touches them, rolling the flesh between her fingers and palms. It's soft and hers, all hers it is her. She cries happy tears as she holds them, ignoring the small voice in her head that spouts about how the first boobs she touches are her own.
And I have a great pair of tits so fuck off me.
She had been meaning to add fortification to the chest portion of the suit anyway. Can't have people noticing that Spider-Man suddenly has a chest.
_____________
Days blend together in a happy blurr as Penelope continues to come into her own. She keeps her hair shoulder length but her chest grows bigger and her hips widen. All the changes she had sought, breasts, hips and fat in the right places she has.
When she looks in the mirror she sees Penelope. She sees a woman. Who she was before still shines through, the shape of her jaw, the muscles that her spider DNA grants her but it no longer stifles her. It is a fascet of herself that she will always hold dear but is firmly in the past.
She returns to Mother's frequently. She makes good progress on the store until there's nothing left to repair and she shows up just to show up. She learns what days other repeat customers come, their names and strikes up friendly conversations. She knows when Mother restocks and she knows when social events are hosted.
She attends some and she enjoys herself. It doesn't cover the ache that Ned and MJ left, no one can ever replace them, but it's enough. It's a start at putting herself out there.
She tells herself it's enough until it isn't.
She thinks of Ned and MJ constantly. Especially when it comes to who she is now. She has a gnawing need to share this discovery, this amazing growth with them. Sure, she visits her families graves and updates them but they can't talk back. They can't live this part of her new life with her.
It is this line of thought that leads Penelope to where she is now. Standing outside of a bookstore that she knows MJ and Ned meet at to browse the shelves and chat from their social media posts. People really have got to be more aware of the locations settings on there.
She walks inside and pretends to consider a few books here and there when in actuality she's painfully aware of where her friends are at all times. She shuffles along the shelves building up the courage to speak to them because so much is differnt. Her looks, her life, and her voice (courtesy of Star and Kendra's tireless efforts). She sees that they have changed too.
Ned is taller, not by much but a couple inches and he's lost some weight. MJ looks…amazing. She nearly drops the book she's holding when she sees her. She's cut her hair into a sheak bob, her usual jeans switched for a pair of breezy slacks. She's wearing some makeup too.
They're small things but she's sad she missed them nonetheless. She was supposed to be there, maybe not at the same school as them but going through the same things they are. Together. She looks to what they're looking at and her brain snags on the thread of familiarity as to what is in Ned's hand.
A Star Wars art book.
"Are you getting that so it can be displayed behind your Lego Death Star?"
Both Ned and MJ turn to look at her, confusion furrowing their brows at the random stranger interjecting into their afternoon.
She had planned for this to go differently. To re-introduce herself and ease the conversation towards highschool and then she would have tested their memory a little. That is not what Penelope does because apparently she is incapable of keeping her big mouth shut even outside the suit.
"Uh, yeah actually it is how did you…know…that?" Ned asks, his initial excitement dying with every word.
Him and MJ subtly back away from her as the alarm takes root. She feels her stomach sink.
And she doesn't know what possesses her, the gnawing need, the ache of knowing them but they don't know her but whatever it is it's stupid as she says, "Oh, you knew me before my transition."
Penelope wishes she had splattered onto concrete last night after missing a swing than be here right now.
They look at each other. "What?"
Penelope feels her face grow red and she fiddles with her purse's strap. "Sorry I should have thought of that of course you wouldn't remember me," she says, mentally preparing herself to bail and accept that she has blown any possible chance with them.
Ned squints. "Wait, are you-"
"Ned," MJ hisses, cutting him off with a swift slap to the arm.
Ned's eyes widen and he looks…nervouse? Ashamed? Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Right, right. Yeah I- it doesn't matter, right?"
"Yeah not at all. It's totally cool that you felt comfortable enough to seek us out again. We must have been good friends," MJ coughs.
It's only then that Penelope realizes what has happened. Through a loophole she herself doesn't understand, granted by the grace of social convention and that her friends are awesome people, she has them back. They won't even think she's weird for knowing too much about them. This has solved everything.
"Yeah, we were," she says beaming and they smile back.
_________________
Penelope Parker is happy and that is a bona-fied fact. Everything is wonderful. She has her best friends back and life is worth living. There's the occasional bumps in the road regarding money and grief but otherwise things couldn't be better.
So when she notices some other bodily changes happening outside the means of estrogen, she's confident that she'll be alright.
She has a slew of people in her corner.