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Ned would consider himself a rational guy.
He gets up at just the right time for work, leaving himself time to make a rushed breakfast with the optimal amount of sleep possible. Whenever he has the time, he'd treat himself to a danish and coffee brewed in a cafe beside his house- not because it tastes better than what he can make at home, but because drinking purchased coffee seems to trick his brain into believing it does.
This cafe being the very same one where Flower Guy finally grew the balls to come to him after four long years of stalling. That very same Flower Guy currently experiencing a nightmare of epic proportions from his living room.
And, as the very rational guy Ned claims to be, he doesn't just spring out of bed as if stung by an eel that's somehow managed to find itself under his covers. No. He springs out and snatches the baseball bat laying discarded halfway out of his closet, eyes still heavy with drowsiness, but mind already racing with plans on how to help Peter fight this villain that has somehow broken into his apartment. It doesn't register yet that this villain is only imaginary, but it's the thought that counts, right?
He almost collides into MJ, who appears to be in a similar state of panicked - curly hair flattened on one side of her head, a pant leg bunched up to her knee - but they're aware enough to reorient their momentum before they do.
"Peter." She confirms, eyes wide in alarm.
It takes a moment but Ned, as he and MJ sprint through the narrow hallway, having to compromise along the way so they don't go stumbling over each other's feet, realizes that Peter's yells have died out almost immediately into an eerie silence.
The answer is very quickly reached however. Or, isn't, maybe, because it could be a demon that's suddenly possessed Peter in the middle of the night, or it could be a parasitic alien that's decided to latch onto his best friend as it's new host. Ned is open any explanation, really, as to why Peter's on the ceiling, head already snapped in their direction after they've made it to the threshold in an overly disturbing imitation of a predator latching onto its next meal.
Most freaky of all, though, are his eyes. Gone are the brown iris Ned's become so familiar with, now overtaken by a glossy, compound black spreading throughout the entire eye like spilled ink.
In different circumstances Ned would be geeking out over how sick Peter looks, but the...very threatening vibes he's getting might be dissuading him from doing so.
"Oh, shit! What-" an anxious chuckle leaves Ned. Beside him, MJ lets out her own "woah!", and they both abandon all plans of moving back at the invisible threshold they'd just crossed.
Their drowsy minds are struggling to process this rapid shift of 'wake up Peter' to 'do we need to call an exorcist?' train of thought.
Peter doesn't seem startled by the noise if the impressing emulation of a statue is anything to note. The rhythmic up and down movement associated with breathing is missing entirely, and Ned's pulse lurches further at the disconcerting sight.
For a moment, the only thing breaking the stillness of the room is the stifled breathing of the roommates. Something about the situation bringing the ancient instinct of freezing before something the mind doesn't yet know how to deal with for survival.
Then, because Ned can't take the tension any longer, he takes a hesitant step forward, palms slowly rising in an attempt to placate whatever's taken over Peter.
"Heyy there, Pete," he says soothingly, ignoring the harsh side glance MJ gives him. "Wanna come down from there, buddy?"
"Or, don't, really. We're not picky or anything," MJ puts in with a light huff that could be interpreted as a laugh or a scoff. "Just don't eat us."
Ned gives her a look; half scolding and another panicked. That thought had not occurred to him.
He gulps audibly, "Y-yeah, don't eat us- I mean, we probably don't taste that good either way, really," he laughs, somewhat pitched because Peter still hasn't moved an inch and it's really starting to freak him out. "You might as well order yourself some Thai, you know? Because we're always eating their takeout for dinner and it's probably left some residue taste-"
"Ned."
"Nevermind," the man agrees, smile fracturing a little.
They jump violently when Peter unexpectedly flips and lands gracefully on the ground, his eyes never leaving them. Or, Ned thinks they don't. The lack of pupils makes it hard to tell.
"Woah- alright, you're on the ground now, cool, cool, that- that's fine."
They watch silently as Peter wanders stiffly to the kitchen. Somehow making the simple act of walking look unfamiliar to him.
"...Call Frank?"
"Yep."
The idea was plausible, outright logical at the time. Now, with Frank - The Punisher! - on the phone, they can't help but wonder what exactly they were expecting from this.
"The fuck'd you say?"
Trying to explain the situation without knowing what, precisely, it is that they're dealing with, and to Frank Castle, of all people, is probably one of the most overwhelming predicaments Ned's ever found himself in.
"Uhh," Ned chuckles weakly, "See, Mr. Punisher, sir. We don't actually know what it is that's possessing Peter right now- that's why we called you, sir...if you could help us figure out what to do."
The line is silent for a moment, and Ned half expects to hear a click signalling the call disconnecting.
"...Sir?"
"Yeah, I heard you, kid. I'm on my way. Should I bring some of that holy water shit while I'm at it?"
Ned gives an internal sigh of relief. If this ends up being dangerous, Ned can count on the unofficial friendship/brothership between the two of them to, in the worst case scenario, allow Frank to non-lethally apprehend Peter.
"Oh, thank God," Ned breathes, laughing. MJ stands by his side, arms crossed, watching in silent horror as Peter rips open the package of chicken they left to defrost in the fridge overnight and start eating it.
In his stupor, Ned forgets to answer until Frank snaps them out of it. "Hello?" he demands.
"Oh! Uh, no, I don't think that'll be necessary, sir." Ned blinks, "Why do you have holy water?"
His question is brazenly ignored."Don't you call again unless he's actively trying to eat you morons, got that?"
"Yeah- yeah, got-" The beeping signals the end of the call. Ned shares a look with MJ, "Well, that was awfully rude of him."
MJ shrugs, "Yeah, it's all part of his edgy act. You get used to it."
A particularly loud bite forces them to acknowledge the active elephant in the room. They are at a loss of what to do while they wait for Frank to arrive and take over as yet another unreliable, possibly explosive, but experienced authority figure.
"I think we should stop him from eating any more," MJ whispers, unsure of how Peter would react to that. "Who knows what and how many diseases he's contracted by now."
"Okay, okay," Ned flexes and extends his fingers, feeling jittery, "Okay, how do we do that?"
"I guess we...just take it from him?"
The two of them share a look. MJ gestures towards Peter expectantly.
Ned balks, "You want me to do it?"
"He trusts you!" MJ defends.
"Yeah, he trusts you too! You guys literally dated."
"Okay, well, who's to say he even remembers any of that while he's like this? And, regardless, he's known you longer, Ned."
"Well- well..." Ned trails off, feeling a shiver go down his spine. Peter's watching them now, the arguing progressively getting loud enough to bring his attention to them.
MJ exhales slowly, eyeing the unflinching stare and unnaturally still state of the man in front of them and realizing that they're treading on very thin ice now.
Well, here goes nothing. "Sooo, Peter," she starts, briefly giving Ned a meaningful look and a nod, "What fine, fine weather we're having, right?"
She moves slowly closer to one side, noticing Ned shift to the other. Peter continues to watch her, raw beef still being held half-way to his mouth. MJ grimaces.
"How about me, you, and Ned go out later for some lunch, you know? For old times sake," times that she still can't recall, no matter how much she thinks about it at night. "I'm sure it'll taste wayy better than what you're eating now," she smiles facetiously, "probably less bacteria infested too."
MJ reaches the counter attached to the wall, watching from the periphery of her vision Ned's slow progress to the other side of Peter. He moves anxiously, both as quick as possible and too slow for MJ's comfort, but as long as Peter doesn't notice him, she'll have to persevere.
She raises her hands placatingly when Peter suddenly stiffens, the hand holding the beef lowering as he keeps watching her approach. MJ stops moving.
"Hey now," she attempts an innocent smile. Ned seems to feel the abrupt tension and is also standing as still as he possibly can. Her heart beats a bit faster, acutely aware of how outmatched they are, but disregarding it for the sake of trying to stop her friend from catching salmonella.
The moment of silence lasts long enough that Ned tries to shift his weight and unintentionally awakens a disgustingly loud floorboard instead, the sound cutting sharply to their ears. Their hearts drop to their stomach.
Peter doesn't seem surprised by Ned's position - somewhat behind his back, close to the fridge - based on the way he smoothly turns his head, posture loose but unturned from its direction still facing MJ.
MJ takes the opportunity for what it is: a moment of distraction. She darts closer to Peter, intending to snatch the beef from his hand and sprint back to her room like the Hulk himself is on her tail. The plan after that will just have to be on-the-go because she would bet her right kidney that her flimsy door won't last a second against a rampaging Spider-Man.
Somewhere in the background, she registers Ned also moving- to do what? She doesn't know, but hopes is to cause a distraction and shift Peter's attention from his stolen food- even better: the thief herself.
Startled from the rapid shift and unsure on which direction to face first, Peter ends up loosing his meal, but quickly leaps to the juncture between wall and ceiling to reorient and assess the situation. For an absurd second they hear him hiss at them, and she's suddenly fully convinced that they've lost Peter's soul to some kind of spider demon.
As soon as the beef is in her trembling fist, MJ shoots to the hallway, heart pounding so hard she can hear it. She notes another pair of bare feet running alongside her own and concludes that Ned's plan is to also hide out in the bedrooms until Frank arrives and deals with this.
"Holy shit!" MJ hears Ned shriek from the other side of the apartment, followed by a thunderous crash she knows her neighbours will love, just before she slams his bedroom door behind her.
She's breathing rapidly, adrenaline dropping just as fast as it skyrocketed, leaving her to deal with the dizzying aftermath. She's not sure what happened with Ned; whether he's still alive and kicking with all the survival instincts of a capybara, or if she needs to prepare herself for the most horrific moment of her life.
MJ stumbles to Ned's bed, breathing heavily now instead of erratically. She discards the meat in the bin beside his desk, leaving behind a nasty slime residue she can't bring herself to get up and wash just yet.
A few seconds pass where she focuses on calming her nervous system down before something crashes into the door and Ned ends up falling to the floor on the other side. MJ leaps to her feet just as he slams the door closed with his foot.
"Ned- oh my God," MJ rushes to his side, relieved, dragging him to his feet while simultaneously looking him over for signs of the crash she'd heard earlier. She notes some scratches on his face, and relaxes when she sees nothing else.
"Jesus, MJ, do not go out there. Peter's fully lost it," the man says breathlessly, grabbing onto her arm and dragging her away from the door. Ned quickly locks it behind them, and MJ doesn't have the heart to tell him how useless that'll be if Peter decides to come in after them.
"What happened?" She asks incredulously.
"This," he turns around and gives her a look of the web stuck to the back of his pajamas, "happened." Ned faces her again before she could get a detailed picture of it, "And you won't believe this, MJ- it came out of him."
"What?"
"It came out of his wrist!" Ned looks manic, trying to get her to understand. "Peter needed these webshooters to- to shoot webs! And now, apparently, he doesn't!" He starts pacing around the room, and MJ glances nervously towards the door. She doesn't hear anything outside, and she's not sure if they should be preparing for something huge, or taking it as a chance to regain their bearings.
"This is insane. We are way out of our league here, it's not even relatively funny. When's Frank getting here?"
MJ shakes her head silently, holding a hand to her forehead and feeling stressed beyond belief, "I don't know. I don't know."
Something shatters outside, and the two share a resigned look.
"What was that?" Ned asks, looking dreaded to hear the answer.
"Hey, shitheads! Where you hiding at?"
"...Shit."
Frank isn't sure what these kids expect from him. All he's ever done for years, all he's known for is to eliminate his problems with a finality everyone knows you can't take back. Whatever their reasons are to believe that calling Frank is the best course of action to some demon related shit Parker's naturally involved in, eludes him completely.
"This better not be a damn prank," he says while taking sharp, wide strides to the designated apartment door with the look of a man on a mission, one could say.
Frank raps his knuckles in three aborted knocks against the door, and shouts without wasting another second to hear any incoming footsteps, "If I don't get a response in the next ten goddamn seconds, I'm gonna assume everybody's dead and move along with my day, you hear me?"
A creak sounds behind him, and Frank whirls around with a hand already pulling out a gun from its holster.
“Woah, man,” a teen says, taking a fearful step back, hands raised. “I ain’t doing anything.”
Frank lowers his gun slightly but doesn't reholster it, wordlessly watching the teen with sharp eyes.
The teen begins to fidget with the tension the continued silence gives him, and scrambles away as soon as Frank nods curtly to the hallway.
With that dealt with, he turns back to the unopened passage before him, blowing air out of his nose, "Screw it." With two, three firm kicks to the doorhandle, the door breaks inward.
"Hey shitheads! Where you hiding at?"
The Punisher marches inside, kicking aside broken off bits of wood in his path, having already scanned the corners.
He pauses abruptly, eyebrows furrowing harshly in disbelief. There's a giant-ass cocoon made of webs above the fridge, branches reaching outward to attach to multiple points on the ceiling.
Frank raises his gun, setting a careful foot forward and expression unchanged from his bafflement, "What the fuck..."
Upon closer inspection, there's what looks like a huge hole on the other side of it, facing away from the doorway and kitchen. The barrel gets lifted towards it.
"I haven't got the faintest idea what sort of magic bullshit you've gotten yourself into, Parker." He mutters, mostly talking to himself, "But-"
"Mr. Castle!"
In a moment of devastating distraction, Frank looks to the side where a hallway is, getting faced with two frantic teens running to him. There's distress written all over their faces.
"Get away from there!" MJ warns loudly. Only to watch as Peter comes jumping out of the cocoon that MJ would say is really reminiscent to a jumping spider- perhaps even a little cool, but not when he comes out with the intention of crushing their apparent saviour.
(And now that the idea of Frank being their saviour manifests fully in her mind, MJ realizes just how completely screwed they are.)
Frank manages to dodge the flying assailant in the very last second in the form of a roll, uncurling himself once he gets back to his feet and immediately pointing his gun at the threat.
"Don't shoot him!" Ned squawks, clutching his bat from where he's watching helplessly at the side.
"Why'd you call then?!" Frank demands, his gun still pointed steadily at Peter with none of the conflicting thoughts banging around inside his skull visible, who's now crouching low to the ground in the signature pose of the webcrawler. The man would never admit it but the blank stare directed at him has his skin crawling for a fleeting moment.
He's at a loss of what to do.
He hadn't come here with a clear plan in mind. Frank had left moments after receiving the phone call and had arrived with the knowledge that there's some weird possession shit going on and to show up with the goal of...what? Preforming an exorcism? Subduing Peter with the least possible damage inflicted? Slowing him down enough to get the other two idiots to leave?
...This shit's way above his paygrade is the conclusion that he can make with certainty.
They watch Peter lower himself further, undoubtedly preparing to launch himself again at one of them, and Frank responds by pointing his weapon a little above the spider mutant's foot. His finger brushes the trigger, not wanting to press down but knowing he might not have another option.
Besides, the kid could easily heal a broken foot. A broken heart is not so simple, Frank reassures himself.
"Yo, Frank!" The shout has Peter twitching and the man in question raise an arm automatically to catch something, fingers curling tightly around a cylindrical-like shape. He brings it to view and almost loses it when the bold 'RAID' registers to him.
"Are you seriously fucking with me right now?" Frank growls without looking at who threw it to him. He's a finger tip's width from chucking it right back.
"Just try it!"
The Punisher scowls at the blatant idiocy of the idea and is about abandon it entirely when Peter decides to strike at that exact moment; legs pushing off from the ground in a burst of power and strength that Frank begrudgingly knows he can't compete with.
"Shit!" Frank exclaims and, for reasons he can't determine no matter how much he thinks about it later, he concedes to using the RAID can, spraying it directly into Peter's swiftly approaching face. He belatedly notices the other two have been yelling at him to use it.
They watch Peter hiss and bring hands up to his burning eyes, his stuttering momentum causing him to slam into Frank regardless of his attempts to stop. The two end up crashing into the couch and their combined weight has it consequently sliding back, leaving pale scratch marks in its wake, and loudly ramming into the wall behind them. A painting gives up and falls from its place on the wall.
Frank places his hands on Peter's shoulders in an initiation to shove him off when he realizes that the other man is groaning in a clear expression of pain, noticeably not animal-like.
He tucks his head by his shoulder to get a better view of Peter's face and furrows his brows when he sees regular looking eyes. They look at him blearily.
"Frank?" The tone is evidently bewildered.
Ned's suddenly yelling from behind them and Frank doesn't have the chance to say anything before a baseball bat finds its target on Peter's temple. It's enough to finally knock him out and he collapses limply on top of an exasperated Frank.
He lets his head fall back onto the couches' ledge, "Nice work," is all he says.
"Now help me put this fucker on the couch."
There's a pounding headache that greets Peter as soon as he wakes up, and he groans at the force of it. He shifts and brings both hands to press down on his forehead, hoping for a temporary relief so he can have a chance to get his bearings.
"Well, well, look who finally woke up."
Peter bolts upright, disturbed at how fast his heart was racing; especially since the voice seems so familiar to him. He hisses at the unforgiving retaliation his brain gives him, leaving an inescapable burning pain behind his eyes.
It takes him a moment to notice, but he frowns at the animalistic undertone of the sound when he does.
"Oh, shoot- should we dim the lights?"
"Nah, he's fine."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Dude."
There's a third voice that lets out what sounds like a pointed sigh - which sounds painfully loud to Peter's senses - before there's thundering steps and a sharp click. The light stabbing his retinas stab only a little less now, thankfully. He lies back down.
"Going for another nap, little bird?" Frank's mocks wryly.
"Ugh," Peter uses his arm to cover his eyes, feeling significantly less motivation to get up and socialize now that he knows who his current company is, "Please, be quiet, Frank."
"Excuse me?" Peter almost laughs at the profoundly offended tone the man uses, but refrains so he could save himself the inevitable burst of pain he'd be rewarded with, "Who just saved your dumbass? Me. I did. Now, no more of that Staten Island bullshit, got it?"
"You saved my life? That doesn't sound right," Peter mumbles, wincing. He's having trouble recounting anything. "What happened?"
"Dude," Ned decides to speak up at that moment, sounding worryingly high-sprung with an odd hint of excitement he spares for situations involving Spider-man. It looks like the adrenaline is still wearing off for him, "We think you were, like, possessed, or something. Your eyes were totally black, and you were..." he trails off when Peter springs up again.
"My eyes were black?" he asks, pinching his nose in a desperate effort to stave off a worsening headache. What a mess.
"Yeah..." Ned looks at MJ, unsure if he should continue.
"Um, yeah-no, not that we freaked out or anything," MJ says and ignores the skeptical look Peter pointedly gives in Frank's direction. Right. "Frank just happened to be nearby when...um..."
Frank doesn't sugarcoat it, "When you went complete batshit and tried to attack us."
"What?!"
"Dude!" Ned and MJ yell simultaneously, exasperated.
"Are you guys hurt?" Peter asks shortly, besides his aching head, the guilt is enough to make him nauseous.
"No, no, no," Ned is quick to deny adamantly, "Mr. Castle got here in time." ("Will you stop calling me that?" Frank demands to no response.) He wisely doesn't mention the spider web that's mostly dissolved by now on his back, or the heart-stopping crash that followed right after. The last thing any of them want is for Peter to flee and hide away again for another four years with the excuse of keeping them protected.
Peter blanches nonetheless, "Still, I..." Tried to hurt you. That's what he's finding hard to accept, that even with them being his best friends it isn't enough to calm his spider instincts.
MJ rolls her eyes. She reaches over and pinches Peter's forearm hard, nails digging in.
"Ow!" He cries out, snatching his arm back. Peter briefly inspects the shallow gouges in his skin before turning to her with an annoyed look, "What was that?"
"Now we're even," Is all she says, face blank if not for tiny curl at the corner of her lips, "Ned's the one that hit you with a baseball bat. Stop being stupid."
Frank scoffs, "No matter how many times you say it, he's still gonna' be as dumb as a damn doorknob," he says while standing up with numerous pops in his back and knees accompanying the movement. He grabs the gun laying casually on the coffee table and holsters it, then goes on to point over his shoulder at the crumbled door.
"You might want to fix that." He barely smirks at the three pairs of glares that meet him, proceeding to walk out as if what he'd just witnessed that evening was just another job.
Peter remains silent for a bit, sitting and digesting, before something registers to him. His lips twitch, "Ned hit me with a bat?"
The man in question struggles on how to explain himself before he eventually blurts out what sounds like something he'd been finding painful to keep quiet about.
"Frank sprayed Raid on you," he confesses curtly. MJ clears her throat, bringing a hand up to her mouth in an effort to conceal her amusement.
Peter's jaw drops.