Chapter Text
Thwip
Creeeak
Will winces as he slowly opens the window to his room. The old frame whines from the movement, and Will pauses to let the sound settle before continuing to climb through. He had been hoping to be home at a reasonable hour; usually bank robberies only take an hour or so to deal with. Unfortunately for him, things got messy, and now he’s climbing into his room from the side of his building at nearly two in the morning.
He lands on the plush carpet placed conveniently below the window and quickly crosses the room to lock his door. He quietly rushes to the other side of the room again to close the window and takes a deep breath once he knows he’s safe from being discovered.
Mike, his best friend, long-time crush— and more recently, roommate— doesn’t know of his secret identity. In fact, nobody knows at all. Being Spider-Man is a secret that Will knows he has to keep under lock and key. If it were to get out— if his mom or Johnathan or anyone knew— then that puts them in danger. They’d become vulnerable due to the fact that they were close to Spider-Man, making them prime targets for villains looking to hurt Will.
Will set this rule for himself the minute he decided to use his powers for good. He doesn’t regret his decision, but that doesn’t make it easy.
Doing this alone means bearing the weight of it alone. It means sneaking home at ungodly hours to stitch up his own wounds. It means reconciling with the fact that he wasn’t able to save someone while forcing a smile on his face around his friends. It means disappointing Mike again and again every time he comes home late with no explanation or misses yet another hangout.
The last one hits harder than anything. Will can handle the injuries, and he’s accepted the fact that sometimes there will be casualties despite his efforts. But continuously hurting Mike and being able to provide no reasonable explanation has been tearing apart their friendship, and it’s hurting Will more than any punch ever could.
He’s loved Mike since they were kids. Mike was his first friend, his first love, and the only person who ever truly knew him. Keeping this from him meant there was a part of Will that Mike didn’t know.
Will has been Spider-Man for just under a year now. It all happened just after moving to New York with all his friends. He had been on a field trip for his required science credit when the spider bit him. It’s not a story he remembers fondly, waking up the next day disoriented and sticky and with about five pounds of extra muscle.
It’s not like he’s ripped or anything. Thank god. Will’s not sure how he would’ve explained that away. Instead, he has solid strength throughout his arms and torso, which is easily hidden by a baggy shirt or sweater.
He remembered the first hot day of the year after the bite. How he’d sweat bullets through his long-sleeve, all to keep his friends from seeing the inexplicable changes to his body. He gave up eventually, finding a lame excuse about going on runs every once and awhile. Will was pretty sure they thought that answer was bullshit, but they didn’t question him much further.
What has been much harder to explain is his constant disappearances. He gets to live with his best friend in the whole world, and as amazing as it is, it makes it incredibly difficult to escape and enter when duty calls. Even harder now that his and Mike’s apartment has become the designated hangout spot.
He knows the constant excuses he spews to leave hangouts early or when he arrives late are a sore spot among the group. He doesn’t miss the glances around the room or the quiet acknowledgments as he apologizes, rushing out the door. He knows they’re disappointed when he leaves and doesn’t return; he can feel the tension in the room as they move around each other the next morning.
He did exactly that just a few hours ago. He’d made up a bullshit excuse about an emergency at the studio and didn’t come back. Now he’s here, creeping around his own room in hopes that Mike is fast asleep and unable to hear the little noise that he’s making.
He gently peels off his suit, careful not to irritate the various shallow cuts from the robber's knife. The wounds aren’t terrible by any means, but they still hurt. Thankfully, the Spider-Man gig comes with super-healing, so Will knows they’ll be gone by morning. Still, blood is blood, and he really doesn’t want to have to clean that from his carpet tonight, so he does his best to keep the area clean.
Once his suit is off and he’s bandaged his side just enough to control the bleeding, he opens his door and cringes at the soft creak of the hinges. He tiptoes his way past Mike's room towards the bathroom, and is relieved to see his door closed and lights off.
Will runs himself a quick shower and does his usual nighttime routine. He brushes his teeth and hair and throws on a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants that hang a little too low on his waist. Just as he finishes up and opens the bathroom door to sneak back to his room, Mike's door opens too.
Will freezes. He was so close to making it back to his room. Now, he’s faced with Mike Wheeler, standing in his doorway and staring at Will with an unreadable expression on his face. His dark curly hair is unruly, and his clothes are rumpled, and Will feels his face flush at the sight of him.
“Oh,” Will says hesitantly, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
Mike purses his lips and looks back into his room before his eyes return to Will.
“No, I was just,” He sighs, “I was just up reading.”
Will swallows. He hates how awkward this interaction is. He hates that he wants nothing more than to walk past Mike and shut his door behind him. Will misses when they would stay up into the early hours of the night just talking about anything they could think of. He used to cherish that time together, and now he can’t even remember the last late-night conversation they’d had. He’d rather avoid Mike completely than have to lie to his face about why he keeps disappearing.
“Oh, okay.” Will tries to keep his voice normal as he speaks, “Well, I’m off to bed.”
Will shoots him a quick smile, but even he knows it looks fake– not fully reaching his eyes.
Mike huffs a disapproving breath as Will walks past him, and Will chooses to ignore it as he shuts the door to his room. He flops on his bed and stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling. He does his best not to worry too much about what Mike's thinking as he tries and fails to fall asleep. Will knows it’s for the better, that he’s protecting Mike by distancing himself, but god does it hurt.
Will wakes up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. He doesn’t remember falling asleep last night, but judging by the ache deep within his bones and the bags under his eyes, he didn’t sleep long.
He takes off his shirt and removes the bandages from last night, assessing the damage. Thankfully, there’s nothing left but a faint pink scratch on his chest.
It’s Saturday, and he doesn’t have anything to do, so he throws on an old t-shirt and a new pair of better-fitting sweatpants before heading into the kitchen. Maybe he can spend the day with Mike today; maybe he can make up for some of the lost time.
Mike is already in there, as he anticipated. He’s wearing loose pajama pants and the fuzzy socks Will got him for Christmas last year. What Will notices most of all, though, is that he isn’t wearing a shirt. This isn’t necessarily uncommon for Mike, but Will never gets used to seeing it. Mike is gorgeous, painstakingly so. He’s filled out a decent amount after graduation, and it makes Will hot to know that even after gaining literal superpowers, Mike is still physically larger than him.
Will does his best to tear his gaze away and smiles as he approaches the kitchen table. “It smells delicious in here.”
He plops down into the empty chair as Mike looks up at him, only noticing his presence now that he’s spoken.
“Jesus,” he laughs, “you scared me.”
Will shoves a strawberry in his mouth before speaking, muffling his words.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to.”
Mike huffs a laugh at Will, shaking his head slightly as he turns back to what he was doing. He must have just been finishing because he’s soon walking over to the table where Will is sitting.
“I hope you’re hungry.” He says and places a plate full of food in front of Will. On the plate is bacon, eggs, and a short stack of pancakes. Will's smile grows even wider when he notices the whipped cream smile with blueberry eyes that Mike has added to the pancakes.
“Oh, I am. This looks incredible, Mike, thank you.” Will grins.
There’s a moment of silence as they eat. It’s not uncomfortable; silence never is between the two of them. It’s one of the many things Will loves about his friendship with Mike; he never feels like he has to keep reaching for things to say to fill the air.
Their silverware clinks quietly against their plates as they both scarf down the food like they haven’t been fed in months. It’s Mike who eventually breaks the silence, looking up at Will from across the table.
“So, what are your plans for the day?” He asks through a mouthful of food.
To be honest, Will hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but he wants to try to reconcile with Mike after last night. He scrambles to think of something quickly.
“I was thinking of trying out that new coffee shop off of Fourth, if you wanna come?” Will tries.
Mike looks almost taken aback at this, like he hadn’t expected Will to answer him, let alone suggest spending the day together. Will tries not to think too hard about how that reaction is his fault.
“Y- Yeah!” Mike sputters.
“Good!” Will replies with a genuine smile on his face. “We can go there for lunch, if that’s okay?”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” Mike smiles, “I should finish up some of my assignments before going anywhere anyway.”
“Don’t remind me,” Will groans.
Mike rolls his eyes at Will, sick of hearing his endless complaints about approaching due dates that he’s cutting close. He gets up and clears both their plates from the table, resting them in the sink for Will to clean later. It’s a deal they made up soon after moving in together. One of them will cook, and the other will clean.
Will spends the next few hours working on a painting for his Impressionism class while Mike works on whatever paper he has due soon. Eventually, when they’re both hungry again, they put their respective work aside and get ready to head to the cafe.
They walk alongside each other as they make their way down the streets of New York. Mike is ranting about one of his professors' new policies about deadlines, throwing his hands in the air as he passionately explains his argument. Will nods and responds at all the appropriate times, smiling fondly at Mike's enthusiasm.
They reach the cafe quickly, the shop being only a fifteen minute walk from their apartment. They walk inside and give their orders to the barista, who definitely does not get paid enough for the hospitality she’s providing. Mike orders an iced Americano for himself, an iced vanilla latte for Will, and a sandwich to share.
Once they’ve sat down and received their food, their conversation continues as it had been going. Will complains about how uninspired he’s been for his Modern Art class, and Mike responds sympathetically while sipping his drink. It’s all perfect and normal and exactly what Will had been missing. It feels like a breath of fresh air after being stuck underwater for far too long.
But because it’s Will, and nothing ever goes his way, the moment is ruined by the sound of distant screaming growing closer.
Immediately, the back of Will’s neck begins to prickle. In an instant, he’s shifted from a calm and relaxed demeanor to high alert. Will knows he needs to leave and figure out what the hell is going on outside, but he just doesn’t know how to tell Mike.
Today was supposed to be free from superheroes and vague explanations that do more harm than good. He was supposed to spend the afternoon with Mike and prove to him that he doesn’t always disappear.
Now though, with his senses going haywire and the screaming becoming increasingly louder, Will knows that he’s asked for too much.
Quickly, he turns his head to Mike while getting out of his chair. If he plays his cards right, maybe he can help out outside and come back like nothing ever happened.
“I’m gonna use the bathroom quickly.” Will lies, and he hopes the crack in his voice wasn’t too noticeable.
“What- now? Will, we’ve gotta get out of here.” Mike says, confused by Will's lack of panic.
“I’ll be quick, stay here!” He says as he walks away. He can only pray that it’s true. He feels awkward as he moves, trying not to look too urgent.
“Will!” Mike calls after him, distraught. Will knows how crazy he looks, but what other option does he have?
As soon as he’s out of sight, Will runs out the back door of the cafe and ducks into a nearby alleyway. It smells rancid, and he’s pretty sure there’s something dead in a nearby dumpster, but it’ll do.
He quickly strips off his clothes and throws on his suit. He takes it with him wherever he goes, just in case. He was really hoping not to need it today.
As soon as the suit is on and zipped, he shoves his mask over his head and shoots a web towards the top of a building. He launches himself to the roof, taking a few steps to look in the direction of the commotion.
It’s chaos.
There’s a stampede of people running from all different directions. The screams echo throughout the city as people rush to escape the threat. People have abandoned their cars, and families struggle to stick together in the crowd.
In the middle of it all is the reason for their panic. It’s a group of Demogorgons, the right-hand men to New York’s latest supervillain, Vecna. They’re tall and bony and terrifying to see in any scenario, but especially on the street like this.
There are three of them standing in a loose circle. They aren’t attacking yet, but no one’s gotten close enough to test their patience. Will can tell they’re on guard, though, the petals of their flower-shaped heads are open wide, exposing thousands of tiny, sharp teeth within.
Will doesn't know what they are here for or if Vecna is nearby waiting to strike, but he knows that he has to take care of these Demogorgons before any harm is done.
He swings down from the roof, a few feet away from the Demogorgons. He's a safe enough distance not to get clawed on the spot, but close enough to gauge where to go first.
Will shoots a web at the face of two of the Demogorgons to buy himself time. They stumble back slightly and claw at the webbing attached to their faces.
With two of them briefly distracted, Will focuses his attention on the one directly in front of him. He narrowly dodges the swing it makes at his head, flicking his hand out to web its feet together. Thankfully, it works just as Will planned. The Demogorgon stumbles and falls to the ground. Quickly, Will shoots out two more webs at its hands to pin them to the concrete, and a few more throughout its body for good measure.
He doesn’t have much time to celebrate before the other two Demogorgons have torn the rest of the webbing off and have their attention zoned back in on Will.
“Shit.” Will scolds himself for not fully thinking this through. He’s got two fully-grown Demogorgons looking at him like he’s fresh meat, and now that they know he’s here, catching them off-guard won’t be as easy.
He ducks as sharp claws come swinging towards him. They graze his shoulder ever so slightly, and Will hisses at the sting. He knows if he tries the same tactic as before, he’ll end up with worse than a scratch, so he flips back and lands directly between the two monsters. He’s a safe distance away, but both are slowly stalking towards him, ready to pounce.
Will grins under his mask as an idea comes to him— it’s easy money from here.
He waits patiently as the creatures creep towards him. He’s seen them attack— he’s been the one attacked— enough times to know how they operate. Will braces himself as they get nearer. He has to time this perfectly; he can’t be off by even a second.
Will closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as he concentrates. He zones into his senses, and the screaming and clattering around him dulls. He can hear the clicking noises made by the Demogorgon as they hunt. He can feel their hostile energy— their desire to kill.
It happens so quickly that the panicked bystanders don’t even register what happened until it’s over. To Will, it’s all in slow motion as his senses come to a peak, alerting him that the Demogorgons are ready to bite. Just as they come leaping at him from either direction, he flips up and out of the way and watches as they collide into each other.
As soon as he lands, he shoots web after web at them, cocooning them together.
Will huffs out a satisfied breath as the monsters struggle against the constraints.
“Aww, you guys finally hugged it out.” Wills coos. “Well, don’t get too comfortable, animal control will be here soon!” He says, pointing finger guns in their direction and laughing at his dumb joke.
He turns around and gives a quick wave to the pedestrians who have stopped to watch the aftermath.
As soon as he’s sure that the Demogorgons can be dealt with without his help, he swings himself back to the alley as quickly as he can to get back to Mike.
He rips off his suit and throws his clothes back on. He does his best to pat the wrinkles in his shirt and runs a hand through his hair to calm the mess his mask left behind.
Once he deems himself presentable enough, he takes a deep breath and walks back into the cafe.
Mike is still where he left him, but the gentle smile on his face from this morning has been replaced with a frustrated glare pointed in Will's direction.
“Where the hell did you go?” Mike spits.
Will knew this was coming. As much as he had hoped that he could come back and act as if nothing had happened, he knew that Mike would see right through him. Mike knows Will better than anyone. Sometimes, Will thinks Mike knows him better than he knows himself. Don’t get him wrong, Will is so grateful to feel so known, but it’s made the lies all the more painful. Mike can see right through him every time.
“I’m sorry,” Will winces, “there was a line. Took longer than I expected.” Will carries on with the lie anyway, because what other option does he have?
“A line? That’s the story you’re going with?”
“Yeah, there’s only one bathroom.” Will shrugs, feigning a nonchalance that he is certainly not feeling.
“Right…” Mike squints at Will, studying him.
Will sits back in his chair across from Mike and is about to try to redirect the conversation before Mike speaks again.
“I don’t know why you insist on lying to me— to everybody—all the time.”
“Wh- what?” Will stutters. “I’m not lying, Mike, I—“
“Just stop, Will!” Mike interrupts, “Talk to me, please. Where did you go?”
Mike's voice is pleading. The frustration is clear in his body language, and he’s practically begging Will for an actual answer. His eyes are wide and questioning, but Will can’t give in to them this time. Not if he wants to keep Mike safe.
Will tries to find the words; he wants nothing more than to grant Mike peace of mind.
“I— I just—“
He comes up short. There’s nothing he can say that Mike will believe, and the only truthful answer is out of the question.
Mike runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Whatever Will, keep your secrets.”
Will shrinks back into his seat. He wants to go back to this morning, when everything was good, and he and Mike were talking like they used to. Instead, he says nothing and watches as Mike packs up his stuff.
“I’ll see you at home,” Mike mumbles before walking away.
The chime of the cafe door behind him is like a laugh in Will's face. It taunts him and reminds him that he has yet again disappointed Mike. Will is losing him more and more with every lie he tells.
There’s nothing Will can do, and the thought makes him want to cry.
He loves Mike more than anything, and he refuses to lose him. He might not want to talk to Will right now, but Will is not going to let that stop him from talking to Mike in other ways.
Before he can even think his plan through, he’s running back into the alleyway and throwing his bag open to grab his suit.